Roots
by Neptune47
Summary: Avalanche delves into his past, searching for the parents he can't remember. Some Lancitty on the side, as well as LanceWanda friendship.
1. Unpacking Emotional Baggage

**Disclaimer:** I'm obviously not Marvel. I just like toying with their characters.

**Summary: **Avalanche delves into his past, searching for the parents he can't remember.

**EDIT 6/18/2011: **After re-reading this, I've made some small edits to each chapter. Mostly grammar and syntax, except chapter 4. See that section for more notes on its revision.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Unpacking Emotional Baggage**

* * *

"Do you ever wonder where your real parents are?"

He furrowed his brow but didn't look up from tightening the tuners on his guitar. He strummed lightly and twisted until the string reverberated at a pitch that appeased him. "Nope."

His girlfriend pulled herself upright on the couch. "Aren't you curious?"

Fingering a D chord, he strummed again and then individually plucked each string to check the pitches. "Not really."

"Oh." She reclined again on the ratty green couch, this time rolling onto her stomach. "I always figured you would be."

She didn't press the subject anymore, but he could tell by the way that she tapped her pencil against the newspaper crossword puzzle that it was still on her mind. "I tried to find them once. When I was ten," he offered.

She looked up again. "And…?"

"I got a name and number from Children's Services after a little bit of…er, digging."

"You did!" She pushed herself up again, knocking the pencil and crossword onto the floor. "Well what happened? Did you call them?"

"Almost. But then I trashed the info instead."

He had succeeded in stumping her again. "You did?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"I figured it was more trouble than it was worth. They gave me up. Why did I have to be the one crawling back to them."

"It wouldn't have been like that—"

"Look Kitty, I know that you think family is really important and all, but it never has been for me." He shifted his weight to lean forward on the guitar. "It's hard to care about people who abandon you, especially if you can't even remember them." There was no edge in his voice, just apathy.

She opened her mouth to press further, but then closed it. "Okay." She rose from the couch and approached the chair he was sitting in. Leaning down she pressed a quick kiss on his cheek. "Gimme a ride home?"

"Sure thing." He leaned the guitar on the chair and grasped her hand to get up.

They drove to the manor in silence, save "Diary of a Masochist" blasting from the speakers. The Stone Ciphers were not a band Kitty was terribly fond of, but she obliged Avalanche his musical tastes in the car. It was one of the things that made him so…Lance.

He parked just outside the front gate, where they usually said their good byes—the Institute did not afford much privacy. She gave him one last hug before pulling on the latch and pushing open the Jeep door. "Oh, I almost forgot," she said, hopping out, "Do you guys want to come over for Thanksgiving dinner next week?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea." The Brotherhood and X-Men were not exactly family. Or friends. Or civil to each other.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Yeah right." Lance snorted, "Can you imagine me and Summers eating at the same table? 'Cyclops, could you please pass the cranberries? Oh, and I just _love_ that sweater vest you're wearing.'"

She giggled. "I know, I know, it sounds ridiculous, but things haven't been all that bad lately."

Things had been better recently, but after the Apocalypse fiasco, where else could they go but up? She did have a point though; everything was more settled now than it had ever been before. Magneto had refurbished the boarding house, and replenished their dwindling bank account before leaving town on "business."

Mystique had disappeared again, which suited him just fine. She'd lead them to no where he wanted to go again, and he was through taking orders from her. Lance Alvers was going to start living for himself.

"So what do you say? Will you come?"

And then there was Kitty, making puppy-dog eyes at him to persuade him to do as she wanted. He found his resolve slowly wrapping itself around her little finger.

"Is the professor okay with it?"

"Was his idea."

He hesitated. This sounded like a disaster in the making. "Alright. I'll ask the others, but they should be cool."

"Great!" She said phasing through the gate. "See you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

Once he saw her enter the glass front doors, he revved his engine and sped back the way he came. Once back in his house, he collected his guitar from the living room and made his way up to his own room. After laying it near a heap of clothing on his floor, he dove for his bed, resting his hands behind his head once he'd landed.

Remembering his earlier conversation with Kitty, he reached into the last drawer of his nightstand, rummaging through his personal effects. He found what he was looking for near the bottom and drew it out. It had yellowed with age and was ripping along the creases that came from over-folding. He opened up the piece of paper and reread the faded ink he'd memorized long ago.

Nick and Maggie Alvers

555-3742

**To Be Continued…**


	2. Picture Perfect

**EDITED 6/18**

* * *

**Chapter Two: Picture Perfect**

* * *

Lance barely heard the whine of blasters powering up before yelling "Get down!" He grabbed Wanda, who was closest to him, and pushed her to the ground, hoping the others would follow suit. A thin red beam discharged where her head had been.

"It's a trap! They're trying to kill us!" Toad screamed as he dodged a blade shooter that was gunning for him.

Lance stayed low, trying to protect the pumpkin pie he held in his hands. "Try and get closer to the mansion. It'll be okay once we pass these laser cannons."

"Lemme-run-for-it. They-probably-can't-target-me." Pietro took off in a blur, headed straight down the path they were on.

"Lance, behind you!"

He looked back at Wanda's warning and saw two blasters recently emerged from the ground, barrels pointed at his head. He rolled to avoid their blasts, smashing the pie in the process. "Damn it!" The weapons we're still after him, one landing a shot by his ear. He fisted his fingers, attempting to create a seismic wave under the device, when instead it glowed an iridescent blue and exploded on its own. When the smoke cleared he saw Wanda behind it, arms forward from casting a hex. He let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "Thanks."

"Yeah. Don't mention it," she said standing and dusting herself off. "What on _e__arth_ is going on here?"

His answer was cut short by Fred flying backwards and landing between him and Wanda. Toad was leaping to catch up with his airborne friend, and to get away from the machine chasing him. "Incoming! This thing is huge and has legs. Like some freaky giant mechanical spider g-ahhhhhh!" He was cut off when said spider knocked him with a metal leg and sent him flying as well. He landed on Blob's stomach.

Lance looked up and found himself staring down the nozzles of multiple metal blasters. Through the corner of his eye, he saw that the others were suffering the same fate.

"Man, this Thanksgiving blows big time, yo."

The spider-weapon buzzed and Lance gulped, waiting for the discharge. Instead the blasters suddenly went limp and the machine powered down.

They breathed a collective sigh of relief and turned to the heavy footsteps walking towards them.

"Sorry," Wolverine, flanked by Pietro, said, "Looks like someone forgot to turn off the security system.

* * *

"Are you all alright?"

"Alright? Your laser pets out there nearly made dinner out of us. I think it's safe to say we're scared shi—ahhhh!" Lance elbowed Toad to shut him up.

"Again I must apologize for what has happened. I don't know how this was overlooked."

"Don't sweat it, Professor," Lance said.

"We certainly did," Toad muttered under his breath, rubbing his injured arm.

If Xavier heard, he didn't comment. "Well, if you need anything, a place to clean up, a change of clothing, we're more than happy to accommodate you."

"I think we're okay."

"Alright then, dinner should be served within the half hour. Help yourselves to the appetizers in the parlor." He gestured to his right. "I'm headed there right now if you wish to follow me."

He turned his wheelchair and the members of the Brotherhood followed his lead. Lance waited at the rear of the group for Kitty, who had been patiently waiting by the stairs for the Professor to finish. "You sure you're okay?" she asked, reaching up and pulling a twig out of his hair.

"Yeah, nothing like a good Defcon-4 battle to make you hungry." He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to locate any more foliage. "Actually, I think I'm going to clean off. Bathroom's this way, right?"

"Uh-huh. Second door on your left. Want me to wait?"

"Nah, I'll see you in the dining room," he told her as he made his way to the restroom. Inside, he checked himself over in the large mirror. His shirt was covered with a thin film of dirt, which he easily brushed off into a cloud of dust. His jeans had ripped more, but that he didn't mind so much. Other than that, no damages. He washed his hands off, replacing the fingerless gloves once he'd dried them.

Stepping back into the hallway, he pulled shut the oak bathroom door and made his way back to foyer. Next to the elaborate staircase, he noticed something he had not when he entered—a large picture hanging off the side wall. He walked up closer and squinted to make out the figures. The students at the institute, he realized, all gathered around the large fountain out front. In the center was Xavier, with Wolverine and Storm on each side of him. He checked the date etched on the side. About a year and a half ago, before mutants had been exposed.

Below the hanging was a long mahogany table, also decorated with picture frames. Some of these were of people he didn't recognize, some older some younger. Tracing his index finger along the table, he stopped at a silver picture frame with three faces he definitely did recognize: Kitty, her mother and her father. He picked it up for further scrutiny. He didn't know when Kitty had last visited Northbrook, but the shot must have been taken recently, because she looked the same as she did now. He put it down and looked at the picture to its right. This one was filled with about nine blonde kids in front of some sort of farm. Lance recognized one of the faces as Cannonball.

"That is a crap-load of kids."

"Sam does come from a very large family." He looked over his shoulder as Ororo approached him, setting the picture down. "I believe his mother is expecting again."

He nodded. "All this must be new. I don't remember it being here before."

"Charles thought it would be nice for those who didn't go home this year to be reminded of their families."

"Yeah, must be nice."

"I think it makes them feel a little less alone."

"I guess."

She didn't respond. Maybe she knew he didn't have a family to put in a frame and display on a table. He wasn't sure. "I think they're getting ready to serve dinner. We should join the others." She walked towards the entrance to the dining room.

He moved to follow her, but stopped and looked back at the faces stuck behind glass.

"Is everything alright, Lance?"

"Yeah, Storm," he said, turning back around. "Everything's fine."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	3. The Number You Have Dialed Has Been Disc

**EDITED 6/18**

* * *

**Chapter Three: The Number You Have Dialed Has Been Disconnected**

* * *

Lance tilted his head back and raised the slice of pizza above his open mouth. The hot cheese slowly slid onto his tongue. Before it could completely leave the pizza, he shoved the dough triangle into his mouth and bit off a huge section. As he pulled the remaining piece away, strings of cheese and tomato sauce attached themselves to his chin.

Kitty screwed up her face at the mess he was making. "That is _so_ attractive."

"What?" He asked with his mouth full. Pizza was one of Lance's favorite foods of all time, and every Friday he'd drag her to _Harry's Hideaway_ so that he could devour an entire one by himself.

"Nothing," she said, passing him a napkin. He accepted and wiped off the remnants. "So like I was saying, my flight leaves at eight next Saturday."

"In the morning?"

"Yeah."

"That's so early." He frowned. "I'll have to be up at six to get you to the airport in time."

"Aw, you don't have to drive me there. Logan can probably take me in the X-Van."

"Hey, what's the point of having a car if you can't drive your girlfriend to the airport at the crack of dawn."

"You sure?"

"'Course. I'm not gonna see you for three whole weeks after that."

"You know, I was thinking about that. Why don't you fly to Northbrook? You could spend some of the holidays with me and my parents."

He laughed. "No thanks. The last time I saw your parents, I tried to drop a building on their heads."

"So you didn't make the best first impression—"

"I think that could be called the worst first impression in the history of all time."

"They'll understand. They know that people can change."

"Somehow, I don't think so. Unless they get amnesia or something." He took a sip of his soda. "I just don't think it's such a good idea right now."

Kitty sat back in the booth and defensively folded her arms. "Fine." He knew she was upset, but she'd get over it.

A subject change was in order to ease the tension, he decided, and he knew just the thing. "There's something I have to tell you."

She still wasn't looking at him. "What?"

Instead of responding, he pulled a folded piece of paper out and slid it across the booth to her. "Go ahead, open it."

Curiosity getting the better of her, she picked it up and unfolded it. Her eyes went wide. "Is this…?"

"Yup."

"You said you threw it away."

He shrugged. "Didn't. Couldn't. Maybe it's my way of torturing myself."

"Does this mean you're going to call them now?"

"Already did."

"What?"

He nodded in confirmation.

"Well, what happened? What did they say?"

"Nothing. The number was disconnected." He leaned back in the booth and scratched the back of his head. "I should have figured. It's been years since I got that information."

"Lance, I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I was just being stupid. It's probably better this way."

"Umm-hmm," She agreed absently, biting her lip and staring hard at the paper.

"Look, why don't we get out of here? I've gotta' go get some new strings for my guitar." He stood up and pulled a wadded twenty out of his pocket, throwing it down on the table.

She slid out of the booth and handed the piece of paper back to him. He looked at it for a second, then crumpled it up and shoved it into the flapped garbage can. "You ready?"

"Yeah, let me run to the bathroom real quick. I'll meet you out front."

"Sure." He walked to the glass entrance of _Harry's_ and pushed open the doors.

Once he was out of her sight, Kitty phased her hand through the enclosed garbage, grimacing as she tried to locate what she was looking for. Feeling the crumpled ball, she extracted it and her hand from the can. "The things I do for you Lance Alvers," she muttered before going to catch up with him outside.

* * *

"Are you going for three weeks or three years?" Lance asked as he unloaded her third and final piece of luggage from the back of his Jeep.

"Very funny," she said, grabbing the handle of one of the large suitcases and dragging it to the parking garage elevator. He pulled the other two, and they took the elevator to the first floor entrance of the airport. After checking in the bags and getting her boarding pass, he walked her to the security station.

She engulfed him in a fierce hug. "I'll call you when I get there."

He nodded, putting his arms around her and hugging back.

She pulled away and stepped back, blinking rapidly.

"Aww Kitty, don't cry." He hated when she did. "Look, it's not that long. You'll be back before you know it."

"I know," she said, rubbing at her eyes. "Gosh, sometimes I can be such a _girl_."

"Hey," he said, putting his hand on her shoulder, "I wouldn't like you if you weren't one."

That got a smile out of her as she pulled her hands from her now dry eyes. Slinging her bag in front of her, she reached into the outer zipper and pulled out a white envelope. It had his name written on it in black marker. "I actually have one more gift to give you."

"Another one?" They'd already exchanged gifts earlier, and she'd gotten him a variety of guitar-related paraphernalia, from picks to sheet music. He suddenly wished he'd gotten her more than the stuffed purple dragon.

"Well, maybe gift isn't the right word. Or at least, I don't know if you'll see it as a gift…or even want it. But I still thought it was important—something you should definitely know about, you know?" She stopped, realizing that she was rambling, and just held out the envelope. "Here."

He accepted it. "Do you want me to open it now?"

"Umm…yeah, I guess so, yes."

He shook the end and then tore off the short side. Compressing it so it pocketed out, he pulled out a white paper. Reading what it said, he looked back at her in shock.

"You'll be surprised what you can find on the internet if you search long enough. That was their last known address. It's an apartment complex. You could probably contact the landlord and see if they still live there. Or ask him where they moved. If you want to, that is. You can even throw that away after I'm gone if you'd like."

"Kitty, I-I don't know what to say."

She smiled. "Happy Holidays, Lance." Getting up on her tip toes, she kissed him, and then hurried off to the security area. After being cleared, she waved to him from the other side of the barrier before walking off in the direction of her gate.

Lance, still speechless, tucked the newly acquired information into his pocket. He thought he didn't care, but the wild beating of his heart suggested otherwise. He'd made a decision about what he was going to do the minute he'd realized what she'd given him. He broke into a jog to get back to his Jeep. When he got home, he had a phone call to make.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	4. Words of Wisdom

**EDITED 6/18: **Revamped the scene with Lance and Wanda in the Jeep—it makes in inclusion of Wanda a little more palatable for me.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Words of Wisdom  
**

* * *

"Awww, Sweetums, I said I was sorr—ahhhhh!"

Even from outside, Lance could make out the distinct sound of Toad falling victim to Wanda's powers (again). The front door flew open, and Wanda emerged, hair soaking wet and plastered to her scalp. Lance saw the expression of death on her face, and immediately felt sorry for Toad. "Oh man, what'd he do now?"

"Sweetums!" Toad, apparently not having learned his lesson, hopped out of the door behind Wanda, who was now two feet from the porch.

"I said leave me alone!"

"Wanda, I didn't mean to, I swear! It was time for my monthly bath. I didn't hear you in the sho—ahhhhh!" He got zapped again, the force propelling him back into the boarding house. Wanda then aimed for the door, causing it to glow blue and snap shut.

"That's not going to hold him for long, you know. He'll just come out the back," Lance told her.

She approached him and scowled, which was enough to shut him up. If there was one rule in the Brotherhood house, it was don't piss off Wanda.

Leaning against the door of his Jeep and folding her arms, she watched him toss a small duffel bag into the back. "Going somewhere?"

"Yeah. Left a note on the fridge," he said, moving to the vehicles left side and opening up the driver's door. "Should be back in a couple of days."

"Lucky you." A crash from the back of the house (and the familiar high-pitched "Snookums!") drew her attention. She pushed herself up from the Jeep, hands dropping to her side. Lance thought he saw a flit of worry cross her face, which was quickly replaced by annoyance. "I've got to get out of here." She came about the right, pulled open the passenger door and lifted herself in.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?"

"Just get in and drive."

"Sorry, but I'm flying solo on."

"I said drive!"

"But—"

She raised her left hand and he saw the familiar blue glow engulf it. "I swear I'm five seconds from knocking you out and just taking the Jeep."

He scowled and jumped in. She was just crazy enough to do it. "I can't believe this," he said, putting the key into the ignition and turning. The engine roared to life, just as Toad rounded the back.

"Step on it," Wanda ordered when she saw the boy hopping towards them in the side mirror.

Lance grumbled but complied, speeding away with a cloud of dust in his wake.

* * *

"Don't you know that everything's on fi-i-i-ire!" the Jeeps speakers belted out.

Wanda leaned on the door, head against her fisted hand. She drummed her fingers against her thigh, occasionally glancing at her companion in annoyance. This music was unbearable. "Can you turn that down? Or off?"

"Hey, this is my show. You're the one who tagged along. The music stays."

"Fine," she said, staring back out the window. He was insufferable, but had a point. She had forced her way into the car. "Where _are_ you going, anyway?"

He didn't respond, seemingly reluctant to share. "It's something personal I have to take care of."

"Don't tell me you're going to see Kitty." Wanda didn't have any qualms with Shadowcat—in fact, she respected her. Kitty held her own in battle, and had proven to be a good leader. It was the puddle off malleable goo Lance turned into around her that was irritating.

"So what if I am?" He asked angrily. "It's not any of your business anyway."

"Fine, whatever. Just drop me off at the next town we hit. I'm not really up for a teary reunion."

"It's not like you were invited anyway." They sat silently for a minute before he added "I'm not going to see her."

She raised her eyebrows. "Then what?"

"I said it's—"

"Personal. Right." She looked out the window again. "Don't be so dramatic," she said, under her breath.

"I don't think _you're_ in any position to be saying that to me."

"Meaning what, exactly?"

"You're kidding, right? You're kinda nuts, flying off the handle every ten seco—OUCH!" He yelped as blue energy momentarily jolted his body then dissipated. "What the hell was that for?"

"I'm sorry," Wanda deadpanned, dusting off her hands. "I must have flown off the handle again. Look at me, being nuts. Imbecile."

Though he knew he'd probably set himself up for that one, he slammed on the breaks in fury. "That's it. I've had it with you." The wheels locked and screeched, turning the car slightly. Wanda flew forward, restrained only by her seat belt. She threw her arms on the dashboard to brace herself. When the vehicle finally halted, she was thrown back against her seat again.

"Are you insane?" she yelled, raising her hand to thrash him soundly.

"You know what? Yeah. Yes. I am insane right now," he said, blocking her with his forearm. "And I think I have every right to be. You want to know where I'm going so badly? Fine. Five hours ago I found out where my parents parent might be. And that's where I'm headed."

"Your parents?" Her usually hard face suddenly melted and she retracted her arms. "Oh."

He looked back to the wheel and lowered is voice. "Yeah. I'm trying to find the deadbeats who dumped me in foster care. So I'd appreciate it if you'd _back off_."

"I'm sorry, Lance. I just thought—"

"I know. Forget about it, okay?" He restarted the car and pulled back onto the empty farm road. "The next stop is about 10 minutes away. I'll drop you off there and you can go do…whatever you normally do when you disappear from the house."

He kept his eyes forward, but could tell that she was still looking at him, with the very un-Wanda expression of sympathy on her face, through the corner of his eye.

"Where are you headed?"

"Minneapolis. They'd rented an apartment there about fifteen years ago. I'm going to go see if I can track them down." He ran a hand through his hair. "I tried to call but only got an automated message from the complex."

"So you decided to drive all the way there?"

He shrugged. "It's not like I had anything better to do. Sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands instead of waiting."

She turned and looked out the window again. "I know what you mean." She watched the trees slip passed the glass as they continued to drive in silence. A green square signpost with white block letters indicated that her stop was "5 miles ahead."

Lance had noticed it too. "We're almost there."

She raised her head, which had been leaning against the door. "How long do you think you'll be gone?"

"I dunno, it depends on how things go, I guess."

"You got a place to stay incase you don't find them?"

He patted the Jeep. "Right here."

"In the dead of winter? You're joking."

"Nope."

She sighed. "What about money?"

"Uh…here." He reached over to her side and roughly tapped the glove compartment with his fist. Its door fell open, and a bunch of wadded up bills fell onto the Jeep floor and her lap. "I figure that'll cover food and stuff."

"This is all you're bringing?"

"Yup."

Wanda picked one of the bills up from her lap and crushed it in her fist.

"If I need more I figure I could shake down a few soda machines somewhere," Lance continued. "Tabitha used to get us extra money like that all the time."

"Ugh!" She smacked him with the back of her hand.

"Hey!"

"How do you expect to drive across three states with a bag of clothes, this," she held up the wadded bill in her hand," and no place to stay?"

"I'll manage."

"You'll manage? Lance," she said turning in her seat to face him, spreading her arms in frustration, "how will you manage? You have no clue what you're doing." She paused, as if thinking something over.

"As motivational as your conversation has been so far, you're stops almost here," he said dryly.

"You know what," she said, leaning back in her seat, having made a decision, "Keep driving. I'm coming too."

"What?" Lance's eyes bulged in his head.

"I said I'm coming with you."

"I don't think so lady. Thanks, but no thanks. I've got this taken care of."

"And I've done this before. I know how to handle these things."

"No offense, Wanda, but your dad was a deranged megalomaniac who was hiding in some secret base. Mine doesn't even know I'm looking for him. I don't think I'm going to have that much trouble finding my parents."

Wanda scowled; she usually did when people insulted her father. "Well, before that 'deranged megalomaniac' left, he gave this to me." She stuck a hand into her coat pocket and fished out a plastic card. "It's access to a bank account. In case we ever needed anything. It could be quite useful for you, incase your stash runs out." She collected the remaining bills strewn around the Jeep and replaced them in the glove box. "Look, maybe it will be easy to find your parents. Who knows. I'm just offering to help you out. In case you need it along the way."

"I don't get you, Wanda. You and me, we're not exactly the best of friends. Why the sudden concern?"

"I spent a lot of time looking for Magneto. I was so angry that he wasn't always there for me."

"Angry? You nearly _destroyed_ our house with that ra—nevermind." He clamped his mouth shut firmly, his body still stinging slightly.

"I know now that I was wrong. He's always been a great father to me."

He looked at her skeptically. "If you say so."

"I guess what I'm saying is that…what I mean is…" she took a breath, "I get it. What you're feeling. I understand. I used to feel the same way. And I think I can help."

He looked at her, considering her offer. "Magneto didn't trust any of the rest of us with that?" he asked, nodding to the bank card.

"Would you have trusted you guys with this?"

He supposed she had a point. He focused back on the road before saying, "we're gonna be a long way from Bayville."

"It's noting new to me."

"And you'll be stuck on the road with me for days."

"I won't expect too much intellectual conversation."

He frowned. "Thanks."

"It's your call, Lance."

They passed another sign indicating a left turn to exit to city limits. He looked at it, but continued straight. She leaned back in the seat, making herself comfortable for the rest of the trip.

"What do you feel like eating?"

"Don't care."

"Burger Bombs it is then."

She nodded.

"Hey, Wanda?"

"Yeah?"

He hesitated. "Thanks."

* * *

"Right at the next light."

Lance pushed up the indicator handle and turned on the right blinker, steering the Jeep as Wanda instructed. They had arrived in Minneapolis a little past midnight the previous night. Knowing that the apartment's main office would have closed already, they'd agreed to resume the search in the morning and had crashed at a motel near the outer edge of the city.

"It should be up a few blocks," Wanda told him, folding up the city map she'd snagged from the motel and putting it in the glove compartment.

Sure enough, a small broken sign that read _Residential Apartments_ appeared after three corners. The peeling black gates were open, and seemed to point straight to the main office. Lance pulled into an open parking spot by its side and stopped the engine. He sucked in a breath, and pushed the driver door open as he exhaled. Wanda followed his lead, walking slightly behind him as they made their way to the door marked _Manager_. The word was craved in black onto a shiny gold plate, which looked oddly out of place compared to the penury of the rest of the complex.

"Are we just going to stand here, or are you going to knock?" Wanda prodded when he had made no move to enter after a minute had passed.

"Yeah," Lance breathed, "yeah, I am." He raised his fist and knocked three times on the translucent glass that made up the top of the door.

"S'open."

Lance turned the handle and entered the room. Wanda coughed a little on the smoke that hit them almost immediately. The place was a mess, almost as bad as the boarding house. Further inside was an equally messy desk with stacks of paper piled quite high. "C'mon in, I don't bite," one of the stacks said in a British accent.

Lance approached the desk so that he could see over the piles of forms and folders, and found the source of the disembodied voice. The guy sitting behind it was unshaven, and his white dress shirt, rolled up to his elbows, was heavily wrinkled. He was busy typing something on a black laptop while a lit cigarette slowly burning itself away in the ashtray next to him. "Aren't you two a little young to be renting a flat?" He asked, though he still had not looked up.

"We're not here to rent," Lance told him. "My name is Lance Alvers."

"Pete Wisdom," the man said, extending his arm. Lance shook it. "What can I do for you then, Lance?"

"I'm looking for some people. Nick and Maggie Alvers. I think they might be tenants here, or at least they were fifteen years ago."

"Nick and Maggie," Pete repeated, rubbing his scruffy chin. "Names don't ring a bell. But then again, I only took this job a few years ago. Must have been 'fore my time."

"Can you check your records or something."

"Wish I could help, but we got a confidentiality agreement with our residents. Can't give out their information without consent."

"Look, man, I drove a long way to get here. Isn't there something you can do?"

Pete shook his head. "I'm sorry, but even if I could help you, I wouldn't be able to. Most of our records were destroyed in a fire about two and a half years ago."

"You're kidding," Lance said through gritted teeth, his forehead wrinkling in frustration.

"You don't keep electronic backups?" Wanda asked.

"This place didn't start electronically archiving its records until I got here. The fire was about six months before that."

"What, and that's just it? I'm just supposed to accept that?" Lance kept his voice flat to belie his steadily increasing anger.

Wisdom seemed to sense it, though, for his blood-shot eyes suddenly became sharp. "Looks that way," he said carefully, "You're just out of luck."

"Out of luck?" Lance growled. He balled his fists, barely aware of the heaviness in his head as he started down the alcohol-soaked manager who was obviously trying to piss him off on purpose. It almost felt like if he glared hard enough, he could will the guy to cave, produce the incinerated records he needed, and give him what he wanted.

"Can you think of-" Wanda began to ask, but suddenly stopped speaking. Lance saw her snap her head sharply at him, but couldn't understand why. His head was getting heavier, and the room felt like it was shaking. Wait a minute, the room _was_ shaking.

"Lance, get a grip will you?" Wanda hissed, putting a hand on his shoulder. She pulled him back from the desk. "Rocking this place isn't going to get us anywhere, except maybe thrown in jail."

He released his fist and stopped the seismic wave he had not been aware of creating.

Pete had half risen and was looking around the now still room, hand raised in a defensive manner. "I think you should take your friends advice," he said, eyeing Lance strangely. "and calm down." Somehow, he seemed to have understood that the tremor hadn't been naturally created.

"I am calm," Lance barked.

"Sure you are," Pete said, sitting back in his chair, but still keeping his eyes trained on Lance.

"Look, you're going to have to excuse my friend. Sometime he doesn't think things through," Wanda glared at Lance, who folded his arms and frowned, "or at all. But the people we asked you about, we really have to find them. It's important. Can you think of anything else that might help us?"

Pete was still eyeing Lance skeptically. "Nick and Maggie Alvers, huh? They your parents or something?"

Lance grunted. "Or something."

"Well, I can't help much here." He picked up the cigarette and took a slow drag off it. "But I might know someone else who can." He grabbed the rolodex on the edge of his desk and began flipping through the cards. Stopping at _L_, he detached a small rectangular paper and handed it to Wanda. "Dave Lester. He was the landlord for years before I came along. If anyone would know, he would. And just to show you that I'm not a heartless bastard, I'll even let you use my telephone." To emphasize his point, he turned the beige set around on his desk and pushed it towards them.

Wanda passed the number to Lance. He came forward and took it, picking up the receiver. Sparing a quick glance at Wisdom, he said "Thanks," before dialing the number in his hand. It rang twice before there was an answer.

"_Hello?"_ The voice was throaty, but it reminded him of Professor Xavier.

"Um…I'm looking for a Dave Lester."

"_This is he.__"_

"Former manager of the Residential Apartments?"

"_That would be me. To whom am I speaking?"_

"Lance. Lance Alvers. I was calling to ask about," he sucked in a deep breath, "about two of your former tenants. Last name, also Alvers."

There was only a short silence before the voice spoke again. _"It's been a while since I've heard that name." _

"So you remember them?"

"_Maggie and…what was that boy's name? Mike?"_

"Nick," Lance corrected.

"_Right, Nick. I didn't know him too well, he wasn't around much, but Maggie's a hard girl to forget. Nothing's happened has it?"_

"Not exactly. I'm just trying to find them. Thought you might be able to help."

Lester seemed to hesitate, before asking rather icily. _"What business do you have with them?"_

Turning and leaning against the desk, Lance looked at Wanda. "They, um, they're my parents."

"_Oh."_ His voice thawed immediately. _"__Your parents. I see. I thought…well, never mind what I though.__"_

"Any idea where they are now?"

There was silence on the line, along with some shuffling. _"__Sorry…uh…"_

"Lance."

"_Lance, right.__ I haven't __heard from Maggie in over a decade. She only wrote me a handful of times after they left—I didn't even know they'd had a child__.__I haven't a clue where they might be now. __T__hey left__ so abruptly__.__ And then those people kept showing up, asking about them—I thought you might be one of them, actually, coming out of the woodwork after all these years.__"_

"Letters?" Lance asked, sifting out that important fact from the rest of the tangent.

"_Yes__…__Oh, of course!__"_ There was some rustling of papers in the background, "_Ah-ha, here it is. __At first, I though it would just be the one-that she just wanted to apologize for leaving without a word. But then every now and then, I would get another. __I kept the__m all__—got __the last one in__ my hand right here. It's got a return address on it that I think you'__ll__ be interested in."_

"Yes, yes sir," He grabbed a pen and Pete pushed him a post-it. He scribbled down what Lester told him. "Thank you, I really appreciate it."

"Glad to help. Um… Lance…I don't mean to pry, but can I ask what's going on? You're…searching for them? Your parents? What exactly happened after they left the complex?"

"Yeah, well, I'll tell you when I figure that out myself."

"Fair enough." He sounded like he wanted to know more, but thankfully, didn't ask. "Good luck to you, then. Hope you find what you're looking for."

"Thanks, Mr. Lester." He placed the handset back on the hook. Wanda was staring at him expectantly.

"Well?"

"We're going to Seattle."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	5. Seattle

**EDITED 7/29**

* * *

**Chapter Five: Seattle**

* * *

Wanda stretched her arms within the confines of the Jeep. They'd had to put the coverings on thanks to the mixture of snow and rain that had followed them since they'd left Minnesota. Lance had estimated a three-day trip, but it was already nearing the end of day three and they'd only just crossed into Washington. They'd have to stop for the night soon; he was dog-tired, and Wanda didn't seem to be faring much better.

"Best Northern, next exit," she told him, through a yawn.

He pulled the car into the right-most lane and took the off-ramp. The neon yellow motel sign greeted them almost immediately. Lance pulled into the front circle drive, and went in to the front desk. He paid the clerk ($19.99 a night) and got the key to the room. Returning to the Jeep, he pulled up near the back, where the room was. He got out and grabbed his duffel from the back seat.

"Key," Wanda said, already standing in front of the door. She folded her arms around her thin red jacket, trying to ignore the fact that she was cold. He tossed it to her and she caught it easily. "Old-fashioned," she said, looking at the brass key connected to a plastic card that read 143. She pushed the grooves into the hole and unlocked the door.

There was one queen-sized bed, a couch, and a small television in the corner. Lance threw his bag on the couch and pressed the power button on the TV. He got nothing but static for thirteen channels. "Great. It's broken."

"More likely the cable went out. It's snowing pretty badly out there." She turned the dial on the heater as far as it would go. Lance felt the stream of hot air flow into the room.

"Same difference." He pressed the power button again and the screen blinked off. Walking to the couch, he jumped on it, throwing his duffel to the ground. "Throw me a pillow, will ya?"

She settled herself on the bed, pulled a pillow from under the sheets and threw it at him. It hit him in the face. "Hey!" He grabbed it and propped it up behind his head. "I'll get the blanket myself."

She pulled the brown fleece from the edge of the bed and threw it to him, gentler this time. "You're welcome." She leaned back on her own bed. Pulling open the nightstand drawer, she pushed around its contents. An old Playboy and a bible. "Classy."

"What?"

"Nevermind." She shut the drawer and pulled the flowered blanket around herself. "So," she said, "We'll be there tomorrow."

He closed his eyes. "Yup."

"You know what you're going to say to them?"

"I haven't really thought about it."

"You haven't thought about it?" she asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Well," he said, picking at his index finger nail, "I figured I'd start with 'hello' and go from there." She kept looking at him, eyebrow frozen in its upward arch. Her mouth was open, but she wasn't saying anything. "What?"

"Nothing," she said, shaking her head. "I just keep forgetting how well thought out your plans tend to be."

"Shove it, Wanda."

"Fine. It's you're life." They sat quietly for a while before she added, "You know, I really think you should—"

"—call them. I know. I probably should. We've already been through this."

"Yeah, we have. And you keep acting like an idiot about it."

"Gee, Wanda, what would I do if I didn't have you around to thrash my self esteem?" Getting mad at Wanda didn't help. If he'd learned anything these past few days (thanks to multiple zaps from the Scarlet Witch), it was to just suck it up and hold his ground.

"That's not all that needs a thrashing. It'd be real easy to grab a phone book once we get in town, you know."

"I know. And if I was smarter, or a more reasonable person, I'd probably do that. But I'm sick of phone calls. And answering machines. And disconnected numbers."

"Fine, suit yourself. But are you just going to go there and drop this huge bombshell on them? You think you'll be able to walk up to their front door and do that?"

"I'm not saying it'll be easy. I never expected it to be easy." He sat up abruptly and rubbed his face. "Aw man, this is a bad idea isn't it? This whole thing is going to be such a disaster!"

"First, you want to storm their house. Now you want to call this whole trip off? And they say I have issues."

"Lay off, Wanda. I'm serious. Maybe we _should_ just call the whole thing off." He buried his face in his palms.

"We've spent four days on the road. We just drove across the country. And now you want to quit?"

He peaked out at her from the cracks between his index and middle fingers. "On a scale of one to pathetic, how bad off am I?"

"You sure you want me to answer that?"

He fell back down on the couch. "Man."

Wanda looked at him, sprawled unceremoniously on the sofa, pinching his nose between his fingers. "Look, you're not pathetic. Not very, at least. You're just nervous. So don't beat yourself up about it, just…suck it up and see this through." She paused, seeing if he'd reacted. Pep talks were not her forte. "Okay?"

He pulled his hand from his face, turned his head to look at her. "You really think I should call?"

"Yeah, I do."

He turned his head forward again and stared up at the ceiling. "Okay," he said, "we'll grab the number once we get into town."

She nodded. "Alright." Pulling up the bed covers, she moved herself under them. "Well, I'm going to get some sleep. Hit the lights."

"Right." He pulled himself forward and hit the white switch above the couch. Settling back down, he pulled the brown fleece over his head. It smelled of mold. He coughed and pulled it quickly away from his face.

He tried his best to fall asleep, but he couldn't shake the nausea that gripped his stomach. Wanda was right—he just had to suck it up and keep going with this. But he sure coulda' used some good old-fashioned Kitty Pryde encouragement right about now.

* * *

"I thought it only rained here," Wanda said, fiddling with the Jeep's heater. She placed her palms above the vent by the passenger door. It was pretty cold outside, and despite her instance that she was fine, he'd forced his blue sweatshirt on her.

"Don't ask me. Never been here before." He increased the speed of his wipers to displace the gathering snow.

"Right." They drove by another street of white picket fences. "This isn't exactly how I pictured this city."

"Too suburbia for you?"

"It's too something. Do people like this really exist?" she asked, indicating the children building a snowman on the sidewalk.

He shrugged. "Don't worry. I'm sure one of those kids will grow up, get a bunch of piercings and tattoos, and then start another Nirvana-like band. It's all a part of the circle of life."

"Heavy metal's a part of the circle of life? They must have left that out of the song."

He grinned at her. "Pietro's wrong about you. You _do _have a sense of humor."

"Well, my brother obviously lacks a sense of self-preservation. I'll deal with him when we get back. Now, let's just get to a grocery store or something so we can find a directory."

"We will. I just need to drive a little first."

"Why? We've been driving for hours."

"I just need to see where they live before I call. I won't do anything," he said to silence her argument, "I just want to drive by it."

She leaned against the window, folding her arms. That was the best endorsement he was going to get out of her.

"Alright, we just passed 90th. 93rd should be coming up pretty soon." He pulled the post-it from the ashtray and read the address to her. "1580 93rd Street." He turned onto the appropriate road and slowed down. He squinted to read the house numbers off their placards. "1574…1576…1578…huh?" He slammed on the brakes.

Wanda lurched forward. "Will you quit doing that? You're lucky we didn't skid and take out one of those kids and their snowman."

He wasn't listening to her. "It not here." He slammed his fist on the steering wheel, and the horn sounded sharply. "Why isn't it here?" He pushed his door and jumped out, slipping a little on the slushy ground as he went to the sidewalk.

Wanda got out and followed him. The snow clung to her hair and eyelashes. "What Lance?"

"Look," he gestured to a one-story on their right, "1578," he moved his hand to right in front of them. "Big empty plot." He pointed to the gray house to their left. "1582. It's gone. It should be right here."

"Are you sure this is the right street?"

"Positive." He handed her the post-it, which he'd unwittingly crushed in his hand. She rechecked the street signs. They matched.

"Maybe we're in the wrong part of town. There must be a lot of 93rd streets."

"No, this is the right place. I checked the map three times this morning. I even asked that guy at the Burger Bomb we ate at." He turned and kicked a pile of snow. The action set him off-balance, and his foot slipped out from under him. He landed on the snow-covered sidewalk with an "oof."

Wanda arched an eyebrow and looked down at him, lying spread eagle in the snow. She folded her arms. "You okay?"

"Well, let's see. I have no family. My last link to them is an empty plot of land. I've driven myself and my highly unstable friend across the country. I've used most of the money I had left to do this, and now, my butt is wet. So yeah, I'm just great." He looked up at the sky and yelled, "Is there anything else you wanna' throw at me?"

"You kids lost?"

Lance tilted his head backwards, and a large bald man in flannel came (upside down) into view. He rolled over and got to his knees, Wanda helping him stand again without slipping. "I guess you could say that. You live around here?"

"Yeah. Right there." He jerked his head to the one story. "Saw you take that fall out my window and came to see if you were okay."

Lance felt the back of his head. There was a small bump forming, but the snow had cushioned most of the impact. "I'm fine. Have a question though. Is that 1580?" He pointed to the open land.

"1580? Yeah. Well, it used to be, anyway."

"Has anyone ever lived there?" Wanda asked.

The man turned and surveyed the plot. "Oh yeah," he said, rubbing his chin. "A guy by the name of Nick Alvers. With his wife and kid."

"They had a kid?" Lance asked, eyes going wide.

"Yeah. Must have been four, five years old. I'm not too sure. But they moved out almost a year ago. As you can see, the new owner tore down the house. Wants to build something bigger."

"I know I'm probably pushing my luck here, but do you know _where_ they went? The Alvers, I mean."

"I do actually. Went to Renton. Things are a little more affordable there. I think he got a job teaching or something." He looked at Lance and Wanda. "How do you know them?"

"I'm a…well, I'm a distant relative."

"Oh, I see."

"So Renton, huh? How far is that?"

"Only about 30 minutes I'd say. It's a pretty small place."

Lance looked at Wanda. "C'mon let's go."

"Go where?" she asked. "You don't even know where they live."

"Small town, we can look them up when we get there."

"Actually, I might be able to get you their number. The person who they sold to probably has it, and he left me his number in case there were problems with the construction." He turned and maneuvered through the snow, back to his front door. "I'll try to call him now."

"Thanks." Lance said as the man re-entered his house.

"You know, Lance, for as much as you complain about your life sucking, I think you're pretty lucky guy."

"I'll say."

The front door of the rambler reopened and the man stepped out, carrying some clothing in one hand. "Couldn't get a hold of him, but I left a message for him to call me back. Why don't you give me your number so I can reach you when he does."

"Thanks for your help, Mister, but I think we're just gonna take off and try to find them when we get there."

"I think we should wait till he can get a number."

"Aw, Wanda, lets just go and check it out. It's only a half hour."

"Actually," the man interrupted, "you won't be able to make it there now. They've closed most of the roads…this is the worst snow we've had in years. The earliest you'll be able to go is tonight." He surveyed Lance's Jeep, which was covered with a good amount of snow. "You got some snow chains for your ride?"

"Yeah, in the back."

"I'd get them on." He turned to Wanda, "You got a coat? You're going to need more than that sweatshirt."

"I'm fine, thanks."

He pulled at the cloth that was draped over his arm and held it up. It was a bright pink coat with white fur trimming the sleeves and collar. "My daughter left this when she went to college. I think it should fit you."

Wanda looked at it like it was bad sushi. "I am _not_ wearing that."

"I insist. You're going to get yourself sick."

"Then I'll take my chances with the flu."

"C'mon Wanda, just shut up and take it. You're freezing."

She glared at Lance. "You want it, then you wear it." She turned and went back to the Jeep. Once inside, she slammed the door hard, displacing some of the snow from the roof.

Lance winced apologetically. "Sorry about that. She's not really a people person."

"It's alright. Here," he put the coat in Lance's arms. "In case she changes her mind."

"Thanks."

"I'm guessing you're not from around here. Where are you staying?"

"No where right now. We'll probably just hang out till the roads open again."

"I'll give you my number. Call me a little later and I'll get you the phone number."

"This is…this is really nice of you. Most people would have just watched me fall and laughed."

The man grinned and patted him on the back. "It _is_ the holidays, after all."

"Yeah, I guess it is. Well, thanks again."

"No problem. Well, I hope you and your girl have a good Christmas."

"Thanks, you too." He got back into the Jeep and waved as he pulled away from the house. He and Wanda would have to find a place to ride out the storm.

* * *

"…_and patrols say the rest of the roads should re-open tomorrow. Back to you, Dan."_

"Crap." Lance clicked off the TV. He stood from his seat at the foot of the bed and stretched. Thanks to the worst snowstorm Seattle had seen in years, all restaurants and stores had been closed for the day. They'd had to rent another motel room—Wanda had vehemently protested staying in the Jeep. With his cash reserves run dry, they'd turned to the bank card Magneto had provided Wanda with. Lance had promised fervently to pay back anything used on the trip, but Wanda had waved him off—the purpose of the card was to help them out in emergencies. And being snowed off the road across the country counted as an emergency. Still, Lance decided that "This really blows."

"Well put. But while we're waiting for the roads to clear, you gonna call that guy?" Wanda asked him from her position on the bed, thumbing through an old newspaper.

"In a bit," he walked to the small desk and picked up the beige phone set. "I want to call Kitty first."

"They'll charge you long distance you know."

"A drop in the bucket compared to what this room cost. Forty bucks is highway robbery."

She nodded, and turned the page. "How long has it been since you talked to Kitty, anyway?"

"Not since the airport," he told her, dialing his girlfriend's home number.

Wanda made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah," he said during the ringing, "why?"

"Nothing. Just…good luck."

On the fourth ring, he heard a click. _"Hello?"_

He knew that voice. He'd missed that voice. "Hey Kitty. Ya miss me?"

"_Lance? Oh thank god. Are you okay?"_

He leaned back and propped his legs up on the table. "Yeah, I'm okay. Why?"

"Why? Because I haven't heard from you in like a week. I was so worried. I must have called the boarding house a million times. And Pietro had no clue where you were."

"Well, Pietro's an idiot. I left a note. I'm sorry you got worried." He frowned. "You're not mad at me are you?"

She was silent, and he thought for a second that she'd hung up. Then he heard her sigh softly. _"No, I'm not mad. I'm just glad you're still alive." _She laughed. _"You know, I called the Professor and asked him to try to find you using Cerebro?"_

He had to laugh at that too. "You're kidding. Guess you really do like me, huh?"

"_You wish, Lance Alvers," _she said playfully_. "So where were you, anyway?"_

He wasn't exactly sure how to tell her. "Well, first I was in Minneapolis. And now …I'm a little further west."

"Why were you in Minnea—wait. Minneapolis as in the apartment complex your parents live in, Minneapolis?"

"Um…yeah. But they don't live there anymore. It's a long story, but I think they're in Renton now."

"Renton? Where's that?"

"Washington."

"Well, that's not too far away."

"I mean Washington State. But it's not too far away either. Only a four day drive."

She was silent again, and when she spoke, it was hesitantly. "Lance, where are you right now?"

Judging from her tone, she wasn't going to like his answer. "Seattle."

"What?" He pulled the receiver away from his ear and cringed as the volume of her voice increased. Wanda was smirking, and he guessed it wasn't from anything in the paper. "You drove all the way to Washington state? Without telling anyone, let alone me, your girlfriend, who'd obviously be worried sick about you? What if something had happened on the road."

"Aw, Kitty, come on. Nothing would have happened. Besides, Wanda's with me." He judged from the way Wanda was shaking her head that that was the wrong thing to say.

Kitty's voice was distinctly lower. "You're alone on the road with Wanda?"

"Yeah."

"Just you and her. Alone."

"You're not jealous are you?" He pulled her phone away from his ear again, when she shrieked indignantly. "Sorry I asked."

"I can't believe you sometimes, Lance. I mean, you've always done things I don't get, but this-"

"Hold on just a second. Why are you mad? I thought you wanted me to find my parents."

"Yeah, I do. But I thought you'd give them a call, not drive across the country. And I'd have thought you'd at least tell me you were doing this."

He tried to keep his voice low, but he was slowly getting angry. She was acting like he'd broken her trust, which he hadn't. He was trying to figure out his awkward family situation the best he knew how. And it certainly didn't involve him catering to her need to know his whereabouts all the time. "Look I already apologized about that. Geez, Kitty, you're being so unfair. I thought you'd at least understand."

"I do understand, Lance, I do. But I wish you'd just think a little more before you did things like this."

"Look I called you because I needed to hear a friendly voice right now—"

"Lance—"

"So I don't need you to keep lecturing me. I get enough of that from Wanda."

"I wasn't—"

"I don't even get why you're mad at me. Because I drove across the country? Well, I apologized, but this is where my parents moved, okay? Because I didn't tell you where I was going? You were still on a plane when I left. I left a note for the guys explaining what I was doing, and I thought they'd tell you too. But I guess I gave them too much credit." Maybe he'd given her too much credit too. She hadn't even asked if he'd found them. Or how he was dealing with all this.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get mad. I just don't get the things you do sometimes."

He suddenly didn't want to talk anymore. "Yeah, whatever. Look I gotta' go. I don't know how much I'm being charged for this call. I just wanted to say hi, so now you can stop worrying. I've got other things I need to deal with now."

"No, wait. Give me the number and I'll call you back."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see ya." He hung up before she could say good bye. He put the phone back in its original position on the table.

"That went well," Wanda said.

"Drop it, okay? I don't want to get into this right now." He folded his arms and leaned down in the chair. Things were not going the way he'd planned. But that was the story of his life.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

Coda

He jabbed his forefinger down on the plastic rod again.

"Okay, that's the fifth time you've hung up."

He frowned at her. "I know." Five minutes ago, he'd gotten a phone number (the latest in a series). Now he was trying to find the nerve to actually call it.

"Need help?"

"No," he took a deep breath and released the transparent rod, hearing the dial tone in his ear. "No, I can do this." He hit the square buttons again, and then shoved his hand into the pocket of his jeans to prevent himself from hanging up again. It rang once.

Wanda was standing to his left—her attempt to show him some sort of support. He appreciated the gesture more than he'd ever tell her. It rang twice.

The room slowly became warmer, and he felt the beads of sweat begin the form on his forehead. He clenched his fist in his pocket. The third ring was interrupted by a click.

"Hello?" The voice deep and familiar. It sounded like his own. He opened his mouth, but couldn't produce any sound.

"Say something," Wanda whispered. He was trying.

"Hello?"

"H-Hi." His voice croaked the word slightly. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Hi. Mr. Alvers?"

"Yes?"

"Nick Alvers?"

"Speaking. Who's calling."

This was it. He looked at Wanda, gathering every ounce of courage he could muster. "I'm…I'm your son."

* * *

**To Be Continued…for real this time.**


	6. Two Guys, a Girl, and a Ribs

**Chapter Six: Two Guys, a Girl, and a Ribs Place**

* * *

Even hindsight, which could usually bring clarity to any situation, couldn't seem to alleviate Lance's confusion. Or his anger. He replayed the conversation in his head for the tenth time.

_"I'm…I'm your son."_

_There was a small laugh through the receiver. "Alright Jason, knock it off. I already told you that you do a terrible impression of Chris. Listen, I've got to get my drive way shoveled, can I call you back?"_

_Huh? "Uh…I'm not Jason." Of all possible reactions, that wasn't one he'd expected. "My name is Lance." For the first time in his life, Lance understood the concept of deafening silence. The pause was so long, that he thought he might have been hung up on. "Uh…hello?" He swallowed, trying to ease the nausea in his stomach._

_"I…I'm still here. Look, there must be some mistake. There's no way…I mean, you can't—" the man cut his own sentence off abruptly, and initiated the second deafening silence of the conversation._

_And Lance definitely didn't want to go through another one. "I'm gonna' take that to mean that you know who I am."_

_"I…yes. I do. I just can't believe…"_

_"Yeah, I know the feeling. Listen, I'm not trying to cause trouble. I just…I wanted to find you guys."_

_He got no response._

_"Um…I have questions. A lot, actually. But I don't want to do this over the phone. Is there any way we could meet?"_

_There was a moments hesitation before his…father spoke again. "Where are you, Lance?"_

_"I'm in Seattle."_

_"Oh." The proximity seemed to have surprised him. "I had no idea you'd be that close. The last place I saw you was…" He trailed off again, a trait which Lance found decidedly annoying._

_"I don't live here. I live in New York. Bayville," he added, in case the man was interested in knowing more about him. Not that Nick Alvers seemed remotely enthusiastic about hearing from his son._

_"You came all the way across the country?"_

_The tone in his voice suddenly made Lance feel foolish. He tensed his jaw, becoming immediately defensive. "Yeah. I did. I'm staying at a local motel. I didn't know how else to find you."_

_"Yes, of course, I understand."_

_This conversation definitely ranked among one of the worst he'd had. If he'd thought those phone calls to Kitty when he'd first developed feelings for her were bad, this was about a million times worse in awkwardness. He realized that a small part of him had expected his parents to be overjoyed that their long lost son had finally returned to them. And what he was getting now, this shock and guardedness, didn't quite cut it. "So, can we meet somewhere? I'm pretty much free anytime."_

_"Yeah," Nick hesitated, "Things are pretty tight for me right now. I don't know exactly when there'll be room in my schedule."_

_Lance had been blown off enough times to recognize what it felt like. He wasn't going to take it this time. He'd crawled all the way across the country. He wasn't going to leave until he got some form of closure on this matter. "I drove all the way from New York. And now you're saying you might not have time to talk to me?"_

_"No, no, of course not, I'll make time. Why don't you give me your number? I'll contact you when I know for sure what my schedule's like."_

_He felt that all too familiar sinking feeling in his heart. Who's schedule was full during the holidays? "Um…yeah, sure. 522-3600." He tried to listen for writing, scribbling—any indication that the number was being written down. He didn't hear anything. "Just call me when you figure stuff out."_

_"I will. It was go…thanks for…good bye, Lance." The line clicked and was replaced by a dial tone._

It wasn't lost on Lance that that was possibly the last time he'd ever talk to that man. The fact that he'd been toiling away in motel room obscurity for days since the conversation, with Wanda as his only source of companionship re-enforced his theory. They'd eaten Chinese Takeout for Christmas dinner, and had watched a rerun of It's A Wonderful Life on late night television. Anything to take his mind off that damn phone that hadn't rung yet.

He'd briefly considered calling Kitty again, squaring things away with her. He'd even picked up the phone and dialed a couple of times, but inevitably, he hung up before a connection could be made. He'd call her once they were back in New York—nothing good seemed to come of his phone calls from Seattle—and with the roads opened again, he wanted to leave for home soon. Today.

He looked to Wanda, who sat cross-legged on the floor, meditating. She'd been doing that a lot, telling him that she needed to re-center herself to keep her powers under control. He thought it was just an excuse to not have to talk to him any more. Well, too bad for her he wasn't playing along today. "Wanda. Hey Wanda."

She frowned and opened her eyes. "What?"

"We're leaving. Today."

She closed her eyes again, and relaxed her face. "Lance, don't bother me."

"I'm serious, Wanda. No more waiting. He's not calling back."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. We share the same genes, remember? And it sounds like something I'd do."

She took a deep breath. "If you really want to leave, then we can. We've still got two hours until check-out, though, so let's wait until then."

Getting the most out of their money. He could live with that. "Fine. But at one, we're out of here."

She nodded. "Lance?"

"Yeah?"

"For what it's worth, it doesn't sound like something you would do. Ever."

Her eyes were still closed, so she couldn't see the shock on his face. It was probably one of the nicest things she'd ever said to him. "Thanks."

She continued meditating and he flopped to the center of the bed. A nap was sounding pretty good right now. He closed his eyes, arms propped behind his head, and let himself drift away from his mind…

Until he was harshly brought back by a high pitched ringing. He bolted straight up, taking a minute to orient himself. He looked at Wanda, still positioned on the floor, her eyes also open from the interruption. They simultaneously looked to the desk table and the source of the noise. The red light of the plastic phone glowed as it rang. Twice. Thrice. Four times.

In a rather ungraceful move, he launched himself from the bed, at the receiver. It was knocked from the hooks, but he caught it, quickly bringing it to his ear. "Hello."

_"Hi. Is this Lance?"_

He recognized the voice. "You sound surprised."

_"Oh…I, well, I wasn't sure if you'd still be there."_

He seethed. "Yeah, well, if you'd called in a few hours, I would'na been."

_"I'm sorry it took me so long to get back to you…things are just hectic, you know?"_

Lance wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that. Was this small talk? Was Nick Alvers a little disappointed that his long lost son hadn't flown the coop yet? Was he relieved that he hadn't? There were so many questions, and the only response Lance could muster was "Yeah…"

_"Well, I'm calling about what we talked about before. About meeting."_

Was this guy stupid? Of course he knew what this phone call was about. "Yeah, I remember."

_"I know that this is short notice, but how about an early dinner today?"_

Lance was suddenly aware that his heart was pounding in his throat. He'd psyched himself into thinking this would go badly. But instead, he'd gotten a dinner invitation. He barely croaked out a respectable "Yes."

_"There's this place close to where you are. Tony Roma's. It's got the best ribs I've ever tasted. You like ribs?"_

It was his favorite food after pizza. "Love 'em."

_"Yeah, me too. Meet me there at six?"_

"Yeah, yeah. That sounds great." He managed to keep his voice flat, despite the tumultuous emotional storm brewing in him.

_"Good. Well, I'll see you then."_

"See ya'." He put the receiver back and leaned heavily on the desk. His heart removed itself from his throat.

Wanda, now perched on her knees, looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Today. Six. Dinner."

Her eyes widened. "Whoa."

He agreed. "Yeah."

* * *

It wasn't a very fancy restaurant, Lance noted as he slipped into the booth. It had more of a diner feel to it, save for the large mounted animal heads that indicated this was an anti-vegetarian joint. He liked that.

Wanda, who slid into the bench across from him, didn't seem to share this opinion. "Your parents, they sure are classy."

Lance leaned on the red pleather, elbows on the seatback, attempting to look as relaxed as he didn't feel. "I dunno, I like it."

She raised her eyebrows at the apparent dairy farm massacre, muttering something about apples and trees. He didn't press it, mostly because he didn't want to piss her off right now. He needed her to provide the moral support for the evening. He'd practically had to beg her to come with him. She'd grudgingly agreed, but told him she'd be giving them some privacy once his parents got there.

He checked his watch. 5:58. He felt his forehead begin to heat, and his stomach decided to take another roller coaster ride.

Wanda grabbed napkins from the dispenser and pushed them toward him. "Calm down. At this rate, you'll drown yourself before they even get here."

"Aw crap, I know." He patted down his forehead with the white paper, looking out the window as he did so. The parking lot, much like the restaurant, was fairly empty. He figured that'd make it pretty easy to spot the people he was looking for.

A Red Civic, pulled in, but it's only passengers were a guy and a girl about his age. A date. The next car to pull in was a silver Z3, but it exited the lot as quickly as it entered. Lance was able to identify its driver as a middle aged Asian man. Probably not his dad.

"There," Wanda said, drawing his attention to an old red Corolla that had pulled in closer to the side of the restaurant. Lance squinted, and could make out three figures in the car. The driver, a lady with short-cropped blond hair, was turned in her seat, fussing over someone in the back. A little boy, he realized, sporting what appeared to be a jersey of some sort, wielding a soccer ball much to his mom's chagrin. And finally, the man in the passenger seat, with dark brown hair that was neatly spiked on his head. With an angular face. With set, brooding eyes—there was no mistaking who he had to be.

"He…he looks just like you, Lance."

Lance just stared at the family through his own reflection in the glass window. The what might have beens hit him full-force as he saw his dad lean over and kiss his mom, and then playfully ruffle the child in the back's hair. His brother. His family. He was getting dizzy.

The man—Nick—his father—exited the car. His mom and the little boy stayed seated, and soon the car rolled backwards, and then out of the parking lot.

Lance's brows furrowed. He'd assumed his mom would be joining them for dinner too, but apparently he had been mistaken. Maybe Nick was here to feel out the situation. Make sure Lance was who he claimed to be, before dragging Maggie and their other son into this.

The door jangled as it opened and Lance got his first up close look at Nick Alvers. He just stared, slack-jawed, and his mind went completely blank.

After doing a quick scan of the restaurant, Nick's eye's fell to him. He knew, and he returned his son's dumb stare.

The waitress approached him to seat him, but Nick shook his head, pointing in the direction of Wanda and Lance. She escorted him to the booth, as if he wouldn't have been able to make it there himself. Lance stood, vigorously rubbing his palms against his pant leg as they approached.

"Can I gettcha something to drink?" the waitress (Holly, her nametag read) asked, smacking her gum.

Wanda immediately jumped up to run interference. "Give them a few minutes. And while you're at it, seat me at another table."

Holly looked confused. "Something wrong with this one?"

"Yeah, the pleather irritates my sensibilities." She grabbed Holly's arm, pulling her away from the booth. She nodded encouragingly at Lance before forcing the waitress to give her a separate table.

He nodded back, silently thanking her for…just about everything she'd done this trip. But now it was time to face the reason this entire journey had started. "Hi," he said, extending his hand to the man in front of him.

Nick accepted the hand. "Hi…"

They both stood awkwardly, frozen in a handshake neither was sure how to break. Lance couldn't tell how much time had passed since the action has been initiated, his senses were so numbed.

Holly came over to help them out. "Um…that girl you were with told me to tell you both to sit down and start talking." She placed two glasses of cola on the table. "She also told me to give you these. Lemme know if you need anything else." Throwing down some straws, she walked away from them.

"I guess we should sit down then," Nick said, laughing nervously.

"Yeah," Lance said, taking a seat as his father did. They hadn't formally introduced themselves. Did they need to? Could he just dive right into his questions (why did you leave me? Why didn't you find me? Why didn't Mom come? Do you hate me? Where do we go from here?) or did they have to talk about the weather and sports and other inconsequential things first.

"Look Lance, I know you must have a million questions. I do too. I don't really know how this type of meeting usually works, but…why don't we play it by ear, huh? Tell me about yourself. Everywhere you've been, everything you've done…or just ask me questions. Anything you want to know. And I'll answer them the best I can. Does that sound good?"

Well, that was one way to go. And it was a way he could deal with. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds…great."

"Good. So how do you want to—"

"Why did you give me up?"

"Whoa." The question had thrown Nick off balance. "You like to go for the hard ones first, don't you?"

"I'm sorry, if you don't want to do this…"

"No, no, I was just…it's fine." He took a deep breath. "You're mother and I…we were very young when she go pregnant. Just out of high school. And I was mixed up in some really bad things. But we got married. I tried to clean myself up. For both of you."

His dad knocked up his mom. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to take that, so he just filed it away. "So what happened?"

"Well, Maggie's dad wasn't so keen on me, not that I blame him. He refused to let her marry me. So we left. Eloped."

"Wow." This was probably something Kitty called romantic. But he knew better. Something had gone wrong. Something had fallen apart. Something had torn up his family.

"Yeah." Nick put his straw in his glass, and pulled it to his mouth. "Like out of the movies, I guess. But it was hard. Maggie…she was the 'good girl' of our town. Always seeing the best in people. In me. It ripped her apart to be away from her family. She'd always been so close to them. But with everything that'd happened…well, she couldn't go home. Then nine months later you came along and nothing else seemed to matter to her. It's like she held you, and suddenly she had her family again. I still remember that day…you were so small." He moved his palms apart a foot, indicating Lance's size. "Maggie used to sing you to sleep…this old Irish lullaby, Toora Loora Loora. Do you remember it?"

Lance shook his head. He hoped this guy wasn't gonna start singing in the middle of the restaurant.

"Oh, well, I suppose you were really young. But you wouldn't sleep unless she'd sung that to you."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry, I'm off on a tangent. Guess it's nerves. I tend to ramble when I'm nervous."

"Me too."

"You don't say…" Nick paused awkwardly before deciding to continue with the story. "Well, back to your question. Like I said before…I was involved in a lot of bad stuff, before you were born. Thought I'd cleaned myself up, but I was wrong. I tried to hide it from Maggie, but the debts started getting really big. And people started coming around our house, looking for their money."

"You had loan sharks after you?"

"Yeah. And things got messy when I couldn't pay. We had to sell our house. We had no money, I was a wreck and in withdrawal, and Maggie was working two jobs to try and pay off everything. But that wasn't enough. It just got too dangerous, and we both realized we were in over our heads. We couldn't take care of ourselves…or you. So we did the only thing we could. We gave you up. And then we left town."

There they were. All the cards had been lain on the table. This was why his life had turned out the way it did. This was why he'd jumped from foster home to foster home, trying to find someone who'd put up with him. So why didn't he feel anything? "Is that when you went to Minneapolis?"

Nick looked up, surprised, "How did you…"

"Kinda' went there," Lance said. Man, he'd run all around the country looking for his parents. He was so weird.

But Nick didn't look put off. He looked almost guilty. "Oh. You really went all over the place, didn't you?"

Lance shrugged.

Nick pulled at the edge of the paper napkin sitting in front of him, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry that you had to track me down. That I never tried to find you. That a good kid like you got stuck with such a lousy family." He stared hard at the table, not able to meet Lance's eyes. "I…I wasn't the parent I should have been. I wasn't cut out for parenting at the time. I'd always figured…always hoped that you'd have found a good family to take care of you. That you'd get everything you needed that Maggie and I couldn't give you. After all those years, I guess I'd convinced myself that you had to be happy, and there was no use coming after you to disrupt that life."

Despite his previous frustration and anger, Lance realized that he didn't want an apology from this man. He didn't need one. He'd found his family again, and that's essentially what mattered. Feeling the lightest he'd felt in a week, he let Nick (Dad) know. "It's okay. I understand."

Nick looked up at his son. "I don't think I'd be that understanding if I were you."

"Hey, if there's anyone who knows about doing things you're sorry about, it's me."

"Yeah? I have to hear about this."

Lance cringed, remembering some of his dumber moments. "Oh man…where do I even begin?"

"Try the beginning."

Lance tried not to let his smile get too big. "Okay, well, there was this time in fourth grade…"

* * *

Wanda watched from her new seat at the bar as Lance and his father spoke. The awkwardness from earlier seemed to have dissipated, and to a passerby, they probably didn't look like they'd been separated for almost eighteen years.

Nick Alvers laughed as Lance talked, and Wanda smiled. It had been a rough week, but it looked like Lance had found what he was looking for.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	7. Kodak Moment

**Chapter Seven: Kodak Moment**

* * *

They'd been there for a little less than an hour, and Lance was still in shock. He watched Nick's mouth move, forming words, that formed stories, that formed the missing pieces of his life. It was so surreal. And it was actually turning out better than he could ever have imagined. After the one question that had plagued him his entire life had been answered, he'd allowed Nick to steer the conversation. His father had inundated him with question about his life, his hobbies, his goals…everything, and Lance was more than happy to oblige.

"Now hold on," Nick said, pointing to where Wanda sat at the bar. "That's not Kitty?"

Lance almost coughed at the notion. "What? No way! That's Wanda. And she's definitely not my girlfriend. Until recently, I didn't even know she was my friend."

Nick laughed. "I was beginning to wonder. I mean, she's pretty, but she seems a little…"

"Psychotic?"

"Not the word I was going to use, but okay."

"Well, Wanda can be a little hard to take sometimes…but she's cool." He was sorry that it had taken him so long to see that. "But Wanda and Kitty could not be more different," he emphasized with a wave of his palm.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Kitty…she's…she's…something else. Sweet and kind and brave. And she's always full of energy, you know? She's one of the best people I've ever known." His gush tapered as he remembered the awful conversation he'd had with her just a few days ago. It made his stomach clench. He frowned slightly. "She's usually so happy."

"Sounds like she makes you pretty happy, too," Nick said, unaware of his son's change in mood. "She reminds me of Maggie."

That really caught Lance's attention. The subject they hadn't yet been broached over this dinner was the rest of the family: his mother and brother. Lance had been itching to ask questions about them, but held his tongue, waiting for Nick to make the first move. But one hour later, and still nothing. He must certainly have proven his legitimacy to his father by now, right?

Feeling brave, he decided to make that final leap. "I can't wait to meet her."

Nick paused, ketchup dipped french fry halfway to his mouth. "What?"

"Maggie. I can't wait to meet her."

The smile on Nick's face melted, and Lance immediately wished he hadn't said anything. Looked like he hadn't passed this little test yet.

"Lance…"

"I'm sorry, I wasn't going to mention it, but I just had to. I know that you wanted to talk to me first to make sure I'm really who I say I am…" he took a deep calming breath. "I saw them in the car…And I was hoping…you know."

Nick didn't respond, but just stared at Lance. His eyebrows were furrowed, and his mouth was slightly open. "Lance…that…wasn't Maggie."

Now it was Lance's turn to be surprised. "I just thought when I saw you together…" But if that wasn't Maggie then-

"Lance," Nick said softly, "Maggie's dead."

"Oh." It was probably the least appropriate thing to say when you find out that your mother's dead, but it was the best he could do. His mind was already having trouble processing the barrage of information he'd received that day, and this…well he didn't know what the hell to do with this.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

"I didn't."

Nick looked like he didn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry. I assumed that since you seemed to know so much already…" he trailed off and cursed softly. "Damnit."

Lance started down at his plate of eaten ribs. What were you supposed to feel when you find out the mother you never knew was dead? He wasn't sure. "When?'

"About three years ago. Cancer. I didn't even know she had it until she died. We didn't really talk much after the divorce."

"You guys got divorced." It wasn't a question, but Nick nodded in affirmation.

"We tried to make things work out for the longest time, but Maggie and I were never meant to be. Too many things were working against us. And I made plenty of mistakes."

So Lance was noticing. "So then the lady I saw you with..."

"Her name is Dana. She's a teacher at a local school."

"She's your wife."

He hesitated. "Yes."

"And the boy, is he your son?"

Nick set his jaw, giving Lance a curt nod.

"He looks pretty old."

"He'll be seven in August."

"No kidding," Lance said softly, absently noting that his birthday was in August too. Wondering if Nick even knew that.

"Oh, Christ," Nick muttered, pushing his plate aside with one hand, pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. "I'm sorry, Lance," he started, shaking his head, "I don't know what else to say to you except that I'm sorry. This…this isn't how things should have been for you. This isn't what you deserved."

"It's okay," Lance heard himself saying, not knowing whether that was true or not. He looked down at the tabletop, unsure of what else to do. His fork absently drew patterns on his plate with excess barbecue sauce.

Slowly a large hand snaked into view, sliding a small rectangular paper along the table. The push stopped next to Lance's plate, and Nick withdrew his long fingers. Lance looked at the rectangular piece of white with dog-eared edges, reading the light diagonal Kodak on it and realizing that it was a photograph. Nick had pulled it out without him even noticing. He looked up once at his father, who only stared back at him with guarded eyes. Quietly, he allowed his own finger to brush the edge of the picture and flip it gently.

His mouth opened slightly as he carefully examined the woman staring back up at him. Her skin was pale, but not in a sickly way. Her mouse brown hair rested on her shoulder, and a small clip pinned her bangs to the side of her head. There was a very small smile on her lips- he would have missed it completely if he hadn't caught it reflected in the brightness of her eyes, despite the faded colors of the picture. He moved his sight down further, catching for the first time the baby she carried in her arms. Him.

Nick gave him a moment to take in the image before speaking carefully. "I've kept that photo for eighteen years. The only thing I had of either of you. " He hesitated for a moment before saying, "I want you to have it."

Lance didn't bother to argue, and nodded his thanks, placing a protective palm over the picture. "Tell me about her."

And Nick did.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	8. Family Reunion

**Chapter Eight: Family Reunion**

* * *

"I think I'm still in shock. I mean…everything he told me, about him, about me, about her-I'm having trouble believing this is all real," Lance explained to Wanda as he sat cross-legged on the foot of her bed.

"I can imagine," Wanda told him, looking at the picture in her hands one more time before handing it back to Lance. "You and your dad, you certainly have a type."

He accepted the photo of his mom, studying her round face and soft features before carefully placing the image back into his wallet so that the edges didn't crease.

"Anyway," she continued, changing the subject, "it was nice of him to foot the bill for our room."

"Yeah, well, he insisted, since he asked me to stick around for a bit longer. I'm kinda glad though—you shouldn't have to pay for stuff anymore**."

"I said it wasn't a big deal. Magneto left that money for all of us." She leaned back on the pillows at the head of the bed. "So when do you meet the rest of them. His new wife and kid, I mean."

"In a day or so. He said he needed time to explain everything to Dana."

"No kidding." She picked at some lint on the sheets. "And what about the other thing?"

He looked confused. "What other thing?"

"The mutant thing, Lance. How'd he take that?"

"Oh," Lance rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, he doesn't exactly know yet."

Wanda sat up again, displeased by his answer. "You didn't tell him?"

"Hey, it never came up. And I figured I'd dropped enough of a bombshell on him already…I didn't want to freak him out more."

She leaned forward on her knees. "I understand that it's hard, but you have to tell him. It's important, especially after everything that happened with Apocalypse."

"I know, I know. And I am going to tell him. I'm just…waiting for the right time."

She frowned at him.

"Hey, don't look at me like that, okay? This is hard enough as it is." He unfolded his legs and got off the bed, walking to the couch he usually slept on. "Look, it's been a long day. Let's just call it a night."

"Whatever you say, Lance." Wanda pulled the sheets over herself, hitting the light switch next to the bed. Softly she added, "I just hope you know what you're doing."

* * *

He was almost as nervous as he had been during his first date with Kitty. No, scratch that, he was definitely more nervous. Much more nervous. Shifting the carnations he held from his right hand to his left, he took a deep breath, and then pushed the doorbell. Only moments after the faint ding-dong, his father appeared, opening the door with a face that looked slightly worse for wear. Still, he managed to smile warmly. "Lance, you're right on time." He looked a little past him. "Your friend Wanda didn't come?"

He shook his head. "I couldn't get her to leave the room. She said it would be too awkward."

Nick chuckled slightly. "I suppose I can understand that. Well, Come on in."

Lance entered, finding himself in a small foyer. It connected directly to the living room on his right, which was seasonally decorated with ribbons and a large tree. There were stairs leading up almost immediately to his left, and just beyond them peaked another room which looked to be the kitchen. From it emerged a familiar petite woman with blonde hair that barely touched the bottom of her ears. He'd seen her before from the window of the restaurant he first met Nick at, but looking at her up close made him gulp from more than just nerves. She was quite pretty.

"Lance," Nick intercepted as the woman approached them, "I'd like you to meet Dana." He turned to Dana, "and this is Lance. My…my s—"

"Lance, it's good to meet you." Dana extended her hand towards Lance as she said so. Her eyes looked as tired to him as Nick's did. He was quite certain that it had everything to do with him.

"Uh…me too." Lance shook her hand, then offered her the flowers he'd brought. "These are for you."

"Oh," she seemed rather surprised. "Thank you, they're lovely." She accepted the white flowers.

"Really? I mean, I'm glad you like them…I wasn't sure what kind to get."

Dana stared at him blankly. "Let me go get a vase for these," she said, disappearing quickly back into the kitchen. Lance heard her opening and closing cupboards. "Nick," she called her husband as she rummaged for a vase, "will you call Chris inside? He's still playing out back."

"I'm sure we can let him play a little more. It'll give us a chance to talk to Lance for a bit."

She appeared by the door way, holding an empty container. "Oh, well, I suppose so, but… I don't want the food to get cold. And getting Chris out of the snow and into dry clothing may take some time."

"Oh, then I guess I'll get him," Nick replied. "Can you show Lance do the dini—" he began asking his wife only to realize that she'd already disappeared back into the kitchen. "Lance, why don't you wait here for a minute. I'll be right back. Or if you want to wash up now, we can go ahead and start eating soon. It might help break the ice a little." He offered an apologetic smile.

"That might be a good idea," Lance agreed.

"Bathrooms right that way," he pointed to the far side of the stairs and guided Lance forward with a small clap on his back. "I won't be long."

"Yeah, okay." Lance opened the bathroom door and locked it behind him. Looking at his face in the mirror, he couldn't help but feel that this was going to be the most awkward afternoon of his life.

And he was right. Lunch had progressed rather quietly. Most of the conversation had consisted of Nick prompting him with questions. Dana, too, prodded him a few times, but with rather trivial questions which mostly required him to say either 'yes' or 'no.' She seemed unable, or uninterested in ever continuing the dialogue beyond that.

The little boy, Chris, hadn't spoken at all. He'd stared at his plate through most of lunch, pushing his green beans around with his fork. At least they had that in common, Lance thought, though today he'd forced himself to eat the vegetable so as not to insult his hosts. He looked to his own plate, which he'd pretty much cleaned off. There was little more that he could distract himself with there, so he decided to make one more attempt at conversation. "The food was great. I haven't had a good home-cooked meal like that in a long time."

Dana dabbed her mouth with her napkin and placed it on her plate. "I've never been much of a cook, but I'm glad you enjoyed it." She turned to Chris, who was still quietly poking vegetables with his fork. "And it looks like this guy is done too." Pulling the fork from his hands and ruffling his hair gently, she stood, pushing her chair out with the back of her knees. "I'll get these to the sink."

Lance stood up almost immediately too, determined to try and make a good impression, "Let me help with the dishes."

"Oh no, Lance, that's not necessary."

He tried not to look helplessly at Nick. "It's the least I can do."

"That sounds like a good idea, Lance," Nick interjected to help him out. "I'll go get Chris cleaned up in the mean time."

They all looked at the little boy, who did not look very dirty at all.

"Okay, well, alright, it's right this way, Lance," Dana conceded, though he could tell she wasn't too comfortable being forced into it like that.

He grabbed the remaining plates on the table. Nick gave him an encouraging nod as he followed Dana into the kitchen.

Lance wiped the water droplets away from the plate, concentrating harder than he probably needed to. They worked like an assembly line. She washed, he dried. Neither spoke. It was weird. He was hoping to make a good impression here, but it seemed that he was failing miserably.

"We're almost done," Dana informed him as she passed him the last plate. He accepted quietly, and began rubbing at the water while she started scrubbing a fork with her soapy sponge. She stopped suddenly, in mid-scrub, and sighed deeply.

He looked at her questioningly.

"You must think I'm horrible."

"What? I—no—I didn't—I—"

"It's okay." She put the sponge down and shut off the faucet. "I don't mean to be cruel. I'm not a terrible person. It's just that I…this…you…I'm not sure how to deal with everything, you know?"

"Yeah," he said slowly, "I know."

"Of course you know," she said, shaking her head. "I can be so insensitive sometimes."

"No," he said honestly, "don't worry about it."

She quietly turned on the faucet again, and rinsed off the soapy utensil she was still holding. They resumed their line of washing and drying silently, until Dana spoke again. "I knew about you."

"What do you mean?'

"Before this week. Before you came. Not in any detail, of course, but I knew you existed, somewhere out there."

"How…?"

"Nick. He told me a bit about his life before we met. Before we ever got married. I appreciated what he was doing, being honest with me, so I never pressed the issue. I never asked for the specifics." She looked at Lance. "And now here you are. I still can't believe the resemblance."

The water faucet continued to run in the background. Lance held his breath.

"I know this may take a while, but maybe…" she didn't finish, but he knew what she was trying to say. Knew what she was offering.

He found her words rather comforting, and he nodded.

"There." She shut the water off, for good this time. "All done." She smiled at him, and he smiled back.

* * *

Having helped as much as Dana would allow him, Lance left the kitchen. The staircase leading upstairs came into view, and he saw a little head wobbling unsteadily on the steps. He came up behind Chris, preparing to brace him in case he fell. He realized why the boy was wobbling so much—he was trying to carry a rather large basket of toys up the stairs.

"You need help with that?" Lance offered.

Chris shook his head, but the action set him off balance. Lance quickly placed a palm between Chris's shoulder blades to keep him from tipping backwards. "Careful."

"Thanks," Chris said quietly, and Lance realized that was the first time he'd spoken to him all afternoon.

"Hey, no problem. Can I carry that up for you?"

Chris considered it, and then handed the basket off. He ran up the stairs, and turned at the top, waiting for Lance to follow.

Once he caught up, Lance was led to the boy's room, which was very messy, but still much cleaner than his ever was. He bent and set the basket of toys down where Chris indicated he should. When he stood up again, he saw the kid staring at him with a furrowed brow.

"My friend Doug has a big brother. He says they play ball together all the time. Do you like playing ball?"

Lance knelt down so that they were eye level. "What kind of ball?"

"Um…" Chris thought for a second, "Any kind."

"Uhh," Lance scratched the back of his head, scrunching up his face a little, "Not really."

Chris found this amusing, and laughed a bit. "Yeah, me either. Hey, can I check out your Jeep?"

It was strange that those words made Lance feel really good. "'Course."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

* * *

**See Chapter Four revision.


	9. Good Strange

**AN: **Sorry for the...umm...5 year delay. I've finished this story (at last) and should be posting one chapter a week for the next 4 weeks. Could still use a beta reader though, so if you're interested, drop me a message. Thanks!

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Good Strange**

* * *

When he relayed to Wanda the events of that afternoon, the words all came rushing out at once. He wasn't sure he was making much sense as he rambled on; Wanda had looked rather confused through most of the conversation, but still nodded every now and then to confirm that she was listening. "That's…that's really great Lance," she told him honestly after he'd finished, "I'm really happy for you."

"Thanks." He was sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, but leaned forward and stretched himself out, lying parallel to Wanda with his chest down. "They asked us to come over tomorrow. You up for it?"

"For New Years Eve? I don't think so."

"C'mon, it'll be fun. Plus, Nick told me I'm not allowed to take no for an answer."

"Why's it such a big deal? This is your thing. Your family. It's just weird having me tag along."

"It's not weird, they want you to come. And I want to have someone there too, you know? Someone I'm more comfortable with." He paused, thinking over his word choice. "Well, someone I know, at least."

"Lance…"

"Besides, I don't want you to have to sit here by yourself."

"I…I," a quick glace at his face made her crumble in resignation. "...fine. I'll go. But I'm not happy about it."

"Thanks." He relaxed visibly and flipped so that his back was to the mattress. As he laced his fingers behind his head he added: "I'm really glad you're here. I didn't think I would be, but I am."

She looked a little startled, but then quickly hardened her face again. "Yeah, whatever. So, what happens after New Years?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to stay here?"

Now it was his turn to look startled. He hadn't thought about it before. All this time, he'd never really thought about not going back to Bayville. The Brotherhood was there. Kitty was there. He stared at the yellow spots staining the ceiling. They were rimmed darkly along their waved edges. "I…I really don't know."

"Has your father mentioned anything about it?"

Father. It sounded strange to him, hearing the word, as if he'd suddenly realized what its meaning was. He shook his head and answered her question at the same time. "There's still a lot of stuff we've got to talk about."

"You mean like the fact that you have mutant abilities."

"Yeah," Lance admitted reluctantly.

"You're better off telling them now than waiting."

"I know that. I'm still trying to figure out how. It isn't exactly the easiest thing in the world."

Her eyebrow drew upward slightly, like she was trying to figure something out. Eventually, she gave up trying to decipher it internally. "In the entire time I've known you, you've never hesitated to let people know that you have powers."

"Yeah, so?"

"So? So now you're stalling."

She was right. "You're wrong."

"Do you think they won't take it well?"

"How am I supposed to know how they'll take it?"

"Well, I'm sure they must have given you some clue about how they'd react. It's not really a closeted issue."

He pushed back up into a sitting position, resting his wrists on his bent knees. "I dunno Wanda, I have no idea. They never talk about mutant stuff, just…normal stuff."

"'Normal stuff'?" She frowned.

He rolled his eyes exasperatedly and swung his feet off the side of the bed. "You know what I mean."

She cocked her head to the side. "If this is because you're scared that they can't accept mutants, you should find out now. You're better off without that kind of closed-mindedness in your life."

"It's not that. I know what you think, but," he emphasized as he stood, "it's not that. I'm just waiting for the right moment. There's no reason to rush it, and it'd be pretty stupid to just blurt it out randomly. I need a good lead in."

* * *

_"—and mutants, mutants, mutants! Stay tuned!"_

The television was on, and the current programming was giving Lance a headache.

He and Wanda sat together on the large white couch in the Alvers's living room, both holding identical cups of cider in their hands. Nick was sitting in a chair to Wanda's left, talking to her. She held her shoulders stiffly, but did seem to be at least participating in the conversation.

Chris was sitting at Lance's foot, pushing a big, red fire truck around, making all the appropriate sound effects. Every couple of minutes, he would drive the truck into Lance's leg with a big crashing noise. He should have been annoyed at the kid, Lance knew; however, he was too busy staring glumly at the TV set to muster any irritation. The flickering screen had a clock ticker in the bottom right corner indicating that there was a little less than four hours until midnight on the West Coast and the news program on behind it was some sort of segment called The Year in Review. They'd been talking about the battle between mutants and Apocalypse—a battle he had very much been a part of—for a good five minutes now.

Which was seriously messing up his plan to just ignore the subject of mutants. He was going to tell them, definitely, but he just didn't want to do it today. Kitty would have probably called the whole thing a sign. He didn't believe in signs, but this was definitely disturbing.

"That was incredibly disturbing, wasn't it?"

"Huh?" He'd been so absorbed in watching the show, that he hadn't heard Dana come up next to him and echo his thoughts.

"That fight." Her eyes flicked to the TV screen, then back to him. "It definitely was one of the most memorable events of the year. Of this century, I'd wager."

"Yeah, definitely." He couldn't tell what she was thinking as she watched the images flash across the T.V. screen.

"Mutants versus mutants," she finally sighed. "They're playing with a lot of power."

At some point while she'd been talking, the room had gotten quiet, except for the soft dialogue from the television. Nick and Wanda were now turned to face Lance and Dana. Chris had stopped making siren noises to look up at the adults in the room, though he continued the push the truck back and forth and into Lance.

Wanda had apparently been listening intently to Dana's comments, because she chose to forcefully chime in. "That is not playing. It's life or death."

Her tone surprised Dana, but the older woman didn't seem as intimidated as most people were of Wanda, "I didn't mean it literally, but you're right, it is life and death. For everyone. I hope-"

"Alright," Nick intervened, "no political talk tonight. She gets really into it if you let her," he explained to Wanda. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, he killed the screen as it showed images of missiles firing at the purple energy domes.

Wanda looked like she wanted to say something more, but looked to Lance before shutting up.

"I think everyone has the right to be concerned," Dana defended as she looked down at her son, who was still ramming his toy against Lance's leg. "Chris, stop that, you're bothering Lance."

"No, it's not bothering me," Lance said, unenthusiastically.

* * *

While eating, no one mentioned anything about the earlier discussion, and Lance's heart stopped beating harshly in his chest. Wanda did keep glancing in his direction, but he found it easy to ignore her. After dinner, he'd helped Dana clear away the dishes again. It wasn't completely comfortable, but it wasn't completely awkward this time either. A step forward, Lance decided. He had just finished wiping the last dish, when Chris barged into the Kitchen to announce that it was snowing.

"C'mon, let's go outside." Chris insisted.

"You'd better do as he says," Dana told him taking the drying towel away from him. "I'll take care of the rest."

Lance nodded, and allowed himself to be dragged out of the kitchen by the boy though he wasn't particularly fond of snow. Nick was waiting at the door with Chris's jacket. And Lance's too. It was strange to see that.

"I see you've also been recruited." Nick handed Lance his coat, and then bent down to help Chris on with his. "He already bullied Wanda into going outside."

"You bullied Wanda into doing something?" Lance asked surprised. He held the front door open for Chris, who padded through it while still zipping up the front of his jacket. "Kid, you gotta teach me how you did that."

Chris ran out under the falling snowflakes, barely acknowledging his fathers request that he stay off the street. The front yard was small, providing only about 20 feet of separation between the house and the road. The thick layer of snow already on the ground vacillated between dull yellow from the street lamps, and bright white from the head lights of the occasional car that drove by.

Chris found a fairly smooth patch of snow and threw himself back-first onto ground. The snow powdered up with the impact. He then began moving his arms and legs against it. After a few repetitions, he stood and pointed to his handy work. "What do you think?"

Walking out to where he was, Lance stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jacket as he bent over to examine the snow art. "Oh yeah, I've seen those before. They don't look much like angels though."

"Yeah they do. Look. These are the wings. That's the dress." He pointed up top. "The head. Don't worry. I didn't get it either at first, until Mom explained it to me. Now you try." He pushed Lance backwards, forcing him to fall into the snow.

"Chris," Nick's warned from where he stood next to Wanda on the porch, "you can't push people like that." Lance saw that they were both watching him and Chris intently.

"Sorry," Chris called out, though he didn't seem all that remorseful. He fell backwards again, next to Lance. "You ready?"

Lance was pretty certain that if Pietro saw him now, he'd never let him live this down. "Yeah, I'm ready."

They moved their arms and legs in unison. When Chris decided that was enough, they stood to take a look.

"Yours looks good. It's a lot bigger than mine."

"Nah, that's just because I'm taller." Lance dusted the remaining snow off his back. "But you'll probably grow up to be this tall too. Maybe taller. "

"You think so?"

"Definitely."

"Cool. Wanna try to make a snowman? I can never get the body right."

It took them thirty minutes to make a pretty lousy snowman. They'd tried to stack two large snowballs to make the body, but every time they picked one up, it would crumble. Nick had come out to try to help as well, but the results weren't much better. The final product looked pretty wonky.

Chris was now running around the yard to find twigs long enough to make good arms, while Nick and Lance guarded the lopsided body.

Nick rubbed his hands together, watching Chris to make sure he didn't stray too far from the front yard. "He certainly likes you," he told Lance while still keeping watch. "I've never seen him like this."

Lance looked sideways at Nick. "He's a really friendly kid."

"Not usually. He's generally pretty quiet. There aren't too many people he opens up to. But it's coming so easily with you." His breath smoked in front of his mouth, then dissipated quickly into the air. This is something I'd never really pictured. The two of you together. Tonight has been so strange. Good strange," he quickly clarified, for both of them.

"Yeah," Lance agreed. "Same."

Nick smiled. And then took a snowball in the face. He looked for his attacker and saw his other son laughing from behind the snowman. "Well, this is war then. You going to help me with my revenge, Lance?"

"I think I'm going to retreat for now. But good luck." He backed towards the porch, dusting the snow off his jacket. It was still falling, but more lightly than before.

"You looked like you were having fun out there," Wanda said once he'd taken refuge under the porch's awning.

"I…really was."

They both watched in silence as Nick allowed his younger son to pelt him with badly thrown snow balls. The recently forged snowman took a few hits as well, causing pieces of his body to fall back to the ground. Chris laughed when that happened, then waved to Lance.

Lance raised his gloved hand slightly and waved back to his little brother. "I have to tell them, huh?"

"You have to," Wanda said without missing a beat.

"What if they can't handle it?"

"What if they can?"

The door creaked behind them, ending their conversation. Dana carefully maneuvered her way out, a tray with a few steaming cups balanced on her hip. "You two look like you're freezing. Here." She held the tray in front of them with both hands while each took a mug.

"Thanks. You didn't have to go to any trouble."

"It's just the instant powered chocolate." She laughed a bit, as she made her way down the porch steps into the yard. "So no trouble at all."

He nodded, letting the mug warm his hands. Chris was still darting about the yard, ignoring his mother's cocoa offering.

"I don't think," Wanda began, pouring the brown in her cup off the side of the porch, "that kid needs any more sugar in his body. Ritalin, maybe."

"He's just got a lot of extra energy. I was the same way." He studied the banister in front of him. "How do I even…?"

She knew what he meant without asking. "Maybe just tell your dad first."

"Yeah. Of course. Yeah." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, sloshing his hot chocolate in the process. "Better to do it quick, right? Like a band aid."

"Like a band aid," she echoed back.

He put both his palms back on the cup, and brought it to his mouth. The liquid burned his tongue but he swallowed it anyway. Tonight, he decided. Before the new year, he'd explain his mutation to Nick.

But that was the last thought Lance remembered with any real clarity. There was a screech from the road, and the next few moments passed like a series of blurry photographs:

Wanda standing rigid next to him.

Dana's terrified profile as she stared past the lawn.

Chris standing frozen on the road, as his face was painted whiter and whiter by the headlights approaching him.

Nick running too slowly to reach his son in time.

His cup crashing to the ground as he raised his fisted hand.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	10. Silence

**Chapter Soundtrack:** The Stranger, _A Perfect Circle_

**Notes:** Special thanks to my new beta Dracarot! You rock!

* * *

**Chapter Ten: Silence  
**

* * *

_What?_ Lance stared blankly as his brain tried to catch up to his body. It was quiet, too quite, like someone had muted the world. He looked at his feet first. He was no longer standing on the porch, which was the last place he remembered being. Instead his feet were planted firmly in the snow, one boot in a puddle of brown liquid. He lifted it carefully, to take a step forward before realizing that his path was blocked by a large crack in the ground directly in front of him. Pieces of the Earth were sticking up at odd angles, displacing the snow as they cut forward through the yard. His head ached, and suddenly sound returned full-force. He collapsed forward, hand clutching the sides of this throbbing head.

Wanda was suddenly at his side. "Lance," she was yelling while shaking his shoulders. He wished she would stop doing that. "Lance! What is it?"

He shook her off. "Is—" he started, wincing in pain, "is'e okay?" He couldn't quite piece together how this had happened, but he at least remembered why.

Wanda looked up, past the yard. There on the road was where the crack culminated in a large chunk of road standing almost 20 feet vertically. A car—_the_ car—was standing almost parallel to the newly minted wall, and its driver was staring in shock at the view he now had of the cloudy night sky.

"Lance, I've never seen you rip that much earth so quickly."

"I've never done it before," he said dazedly.

She looked at him, concerned, but then grabbed his hand and pulled him forward. "We should make sure everyone's okay."

That brought him back to reality. Looking at the broken street again, he saw what his eyes had missed before: the three figures on the other side of the crack. Dana and Nick were crouched over their son. Chris was lying on his back.

"He fell backwards when you split the road," Wanda explained. "Must have hit his head."

They made it to the road and did a quick survey. The driver of the other car was now trying to climb out of his window. Belatedly, Lance felt slightly relieved that he hadn't been injured.

"I'll help that guy. You check on them." Wanda headed for the driver of the other car. Lance came up behind Nick and Dana.

"Is he okay?"

He got his answer immediately as Chris said, "Stop it, Mom, I'm fine." Dana pulled him closer to her, planting kisses on his forehead. Chris struggled against her, protesting more strongly each second.

His mother ignored him. "We should take him to the hospital, make sure he's okay," she told her husband.

Nick pressed his fingers to the back of Chris's head. "It doesn't feel like a very big bump. Does it hurt when I do this Chris?"

The boy shook his head.

"Let's just watch him for the next few hours and see."

"It's not just the fall, Nick," she glanced quickly up at Lance, the crack in the ground and back down to Chris. "We don't know how else he might have been affected when…we should just take him now and make sure."

For the first time in his life, Lance found himself unable to say anything in response to a poorly concealed accusation.

"Lance's powers don't affect organic tissue," Wanda came up behind him, apparently defending him since he hadn't said anything on his own behalf.

Dana ignored her. "Nick, we should go, just to be safe. Make sure there are no side effects." She helped Chris stand.

Wanda folded her arms. "The only thing wrong with your son is a bump on the head, and an inability to look both ways before he runs onto a road."

"Wanda, stop." Lance stepped forward. "Look, it's okay if you want to take him to the hospital. We can take my Jeep, its right—"

Dana put her hand up jerkily to silence him. "Lance, no. Just…we'll handle this." She pulled Chris towards the house. "Nick, get the car ready."

Nick, who hadn't said much to this point, hung back. "I need a minute, Dana."

"But we need to go now."

"I said I need a minute!" Nick said with a building anger Lance hadn't seen in him before, "Just wait in the car if you have to."

She didn't look happy about it, but she went inside with Chris. Once the door had closed properly behind her, Nick turned slowly to him.

"Lance, how…?"

Lance remained silent. Wanda put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at her, and then back at Nick. "It's my power. My mutation."

"You're really a mutant?"

Lance nodded.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was waiting for the right time; if there ever is a right time to tell someone that."

Nick rubbed his palm over his face. "You're one surprise after another aren't you?"

"I'm not doing this on purpose."

"Look I know. But, I just need some time right now; to talk to Dana, to think."

"What's there to think about?" Wanda asked. "He's your son. He _saved_ your son."

"Wanda," Lance warned. He was getting a headache.

"We all know it's not that simple right now. Maybe we should call it a night." He glanced hesitantly as the other driver examined the state of his car. "You probably shouldn't be here when the authorities get here anyway."

Wanda was ready to say more, but Lance grabbed her by the elbow. "Let's get out of here," he said quietly, but the strength of his grip told her he was anything but calm. He pulled her backwards towards his Jeep. Not once did he look back at Nick.

"That's it? You don't have anything else to say about this?"

And it was. He ignored her as he opened the passenger side door and made her get in the car. He ignored her on the drive back to the motel. He ignored her. He didn't want to spend the New Year somewhere that he wouldn't be finishing it.

* * *

There was banging in his head. At first he'd thought it was part of a dream—he'd been dreaming that he was driving down a long road. He passed a circus, a corn field, and Blob eating an ice cream bar. Professor Xavier was in the passenger seat, but he suddenly turned into Kitty, and then into Pietro, who began knocking on Lance's head with a fist. Hence the banging.

It took him a second to realize that Pietro couldn't actually be knocking on his head. So it must have been something else.

He lifted his head off his pillow and looked at the door. That was it then.

A quick glance at Wanda confirmed that she'd also been woken up. She sat up in the bed, sheets pooled at her waist. "What time is it?"

"Early," he informed her, throwing his own covers off himself and getting off the couch. The floor of the motel was cold. The air on the other side of the door was colder. He wished he'd had on more than his boxers and an undershirt as he opened the door.

Actually, he wished he hadn't opened the door at all. "Oh, hi."

"Sorry to come so early." Nick was still wearing the same clothes he'd been wearing the night before. "I'm glad you're still here. Can we talk?" He looked at Wanda, who was watching unapologetically from the bed. "In private?"

Lance looked back at Wanda, more to not have to look at the man in the door than any strong desire to see her. "Yeah, give me a second. I'll meet you out front."

He grabbed his shirt and jeans and jacket off the floor where he'd dumped them last night and pulled them on.

"What do you think he wants?" Wanda asked while he got dressed.

Lance shook his head, letting the air rush out of his mouth in a mirthless 'hmph.' Wanda didn't press him as he pulled the door open again to talk to Nick.

"How's Chris?" Lance asked as he approached the front of the motel. The sign on the office said it would be closed for another hour—a late opening for New Years.

"He's doing fine; Just a bump on the head. It could have been worse." He spoke the end of the sentence more quietly, as if he just remembered what that worse was.

"I'll bet Dana's relieved that he didn't catch some sort of mutant disease from me."

"That's unfair Lance. She's just concerned; scared. A lot of people are unsure of what to make of this situation with Mutants."

"Are you one of those people?"

To his credit, Nick did try to look him in the eye. But in the end, when answering, he looked down at his feet. "I'm not perfect. I don't know what to think anymore."

"Yeah."

Nick leaned against the wall behind him. "God; I have no idea how to begin this conversation." He pulled his palms out of his coat pocket and rubbed them down his tired face. It made a bristling noise against the brown stubble on his chin.

"I do. I know how the whole conversation goes actually. So let's not have it." Lance had been punted out of enough schools and foster homes to be a pro at this part.

"I never dreamed I'd even find you again after all these years."

"Wishing I'd never come back around, right?"

"Don't put words in my mouth. I'm so incredibly lucky to have gotten to see the man you grew up to be…"

"But…I come with too many complications."

"Maybe this isn't a good fit right now."

For some strange reason, he couldn't get himself to channel a seismic wave and rip the ground out from beneath Nick's feet.

"But I want to help you out. Money, how much ever you need. It's yours. For as long as you need it."

"I don't want your money."

"I'm sorry Lance, you deserved so much better than what you were given—"

"Just…just stop saying that okay? I don't want to keep hearing you say that."

Nick clamped his mouth shut.

"Look, if we're done here, I'd like to get back inside."

"Wait…there's one more thing."

"What."

"Your mother; After we…when she…" he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. It was white, except for black writing that had smudged from being folded before it had properly dried. He held it out for Lance.

"What's this."

"That's where she's bur…where she is."

Lance took the paper. Reading the address, he almost laughed. What a joke.

"Listen. Maybe in a few years…" Nick didn't finish that sentence. "Good bye, Lance."

He turned and slowly walked away. Instead of going back inside, Lance watched him until he drove away.

He wanted to go home.

* * *

The door bell had barely finished chiming when her dad called "Sweetheart, can you get that?" from the kitchen.

Kitty sat up on the couch, but didn't look up from the book she was reading. "Yeah, got it," she yelled loudly enough for her father to hear. She continued to read as she phased through the wall between the living room and foyer, "Are you expecting someone?"

"No," her father said, still from the kitchen, "Are you?"

"Nope," she said as she closed her book and pulled open the door. "I'm no…" She stopped mid-sentence.

Lance shifted awkwardly in her doorway. "Hey."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	11. Walked Around My Good Intentions

**Chapter Soundtrack: **4am, _Our Lady Peace_  
**AN: **Shout out to the very speedy beta, Dracarot! Thanks for your help!

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: Walked Around My Good Intentions**

* * *

Lance was sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, trying hard to ignore the very loud private conversation happening in the kitchen.

_"We sent you to that school to keep you away from that no-good, greasy-haired, foul-mouthed punk—"_

_"Daddy, keep your voice down. And stop being so—"_

Lance growled a sigh of frustration and sank his head into his hands. His surprise appearance at the Pryde household had not gone over well with Mr. Pryde. The man had recognized him immediately (as he suspected he would), and would probably have pummeled him with a potato masher had Kitty not intervened. And if Kitty's dad hadn't taken well to Lance's sudden appearance, he certainly hadn't taken well to the news that Lance was Kitty's boyfriend. To avoid Lance versus the potato masher, round 2, Kitty had asked him to wait in the living room while she dragged her father to the kitchen. Listening to her defend him to her father made him feel all the worse considering how horrible he'd been the last time they spoke.

_"That Xavier is going to get a piece of my mind. He's supposed to be prote—"_

Lance didn't hear the end of Mr. Pryde's tirade because of a loud crash coming from somewhere near him. Looking up, he saw Kitty's mother standing at the entrance to the living room gaping at him, bag of groceries toppled at her feet.

He stood as quickly and non-threateningly as he could; simultaneously, Kitty and her father came into the room.

"Mom, uh…you remember Lance," Kitty said by way of introduction.

Still gaping, Mrs. Pryde looked from her husband and daughter to Lance. "I…I…"

"Yes, dear, meet our daughter's new_ boyfriend._"

"Her…oh…" Kitty's mom brought her finger to her lip—a nervous tick Lance had noticed in Kitty also. "Kitty, sweetheart, you never mentioned that the boy you were talking about was that…uh…that we already knew him."

She was trying to be more diplomatic than her husband had been, and Lance was grateful for her effort. He rubbed the back of his neck. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause any trouble. I just needed to talk to Kitty, but I'll get out of your hair."

"Lance, wait!" Kitty stopped him as he took a step towards the foyer. "Don't go. Really, it's okay." She looked imploringly at her mother, "right, Mom?"

Mrs. Pryde looked reluctant, but came up with a compromise after a few moments. "Honey why don't you and… Lance… wait here, while your father and I talk." She slowly moved to her fuming husband to coax him away from the living room. "Come on, dear, let's go to the study."

"We won't be far," he told his daughter, then shot a warning glare at Lance before leaving them alone.

"Sorry about that," Kitty said moving next to him and tucking her long bangs behind her ears. "You just surprised them, that's all. Once Daddy calms down, it'll be fine."

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have dropped in like this. Wasn't really thinking, you know?" He stuffed his hands in his pockets awkwardly.

Kitty also shifted awkwardly, looking around. "Where's Wanda?" she asked.

"Let her take the jeep after we got here. She wanted to run a few errands or something." He sighed. "Sorry about the other day; on the phone. I shouldn't have gotten angry. I overreacted. As usual."

She was shaking her head even before he finished speaking. "No, I did, too." She sat on the couch and tugged his sleeve indicating he should do the same. "You were dealing with something important, and I was being such a jerk. I'm so—"

He pulled her forward by the back of her head and kissed her, hard. She was surprised, but almost immediately threw her hands around his neck. When he felt himself calm down a bit, he moved his mouth from hers, but kept her in a tight hug.

"You okay?" she asked quietly, rubbing his back.

"I don't know," he admitted.

He told her everything, pulling out the piece of paper Nick had given him when he finished. She took it from him and read it. "Wow. That's not too far from here."

"Yeah."

"She was so close all along; it's kind of hard to believe. Are you going to go?"

"Back to Bayville? Yeah."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know." He sighed. "What's the point, though? It's not like I even knew her. And it won't change anything."

"Maybe it won't." She placed the note that contained the address of the cemetery his mother was buried at back in his hand and squeezed gently. "But then again, maybe it will."

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	12. Preserve Your Memories

**Chapter Soundtrack: **Bookends, _Simon and Garfunkel  
_**AN: **Thanks again to my brilliant beta, Dracarot!

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Preserve Your Memories**

* * *

The tombstone was small, a good portion of it covered in snow. The etching was simple, just her name and dates of birth and death. Compared to the stones surrounding it, it seemed badly maintained.

Lance realized, too late, that he probably should have brought something with him, maybe flowers, to put on his mother's grave. Not having visited many graves before, he hadn't even thought of it. He clenched his empty hand into a fist. His head felt heavy again, but he made a conscious effort not to make the ground around him shake. The families of those interred here probably wouldn't appreciate him recreating some B-grade horror show.

Images of the zombie massacre movie he'd seen with Kitty and Toad a few months ago began flitting across his wandering brain. Kitty, who hated the whole idea of horror, had only agreed to watch because he wanted to. Much to his pleasure, she'd passed the entire two-hour blood fest with her face buried in his shoulder. Much to his displeasure, Toad had done the same. Despite being knocked away repeatedly, the boy kept shrieking and grabbing Lance's arm every time a zombie appeared on screen. Lance had to admit that the creatures were seriously disgusting, with the mucus dripping from their mouths, the black veins crawling across their faces, and the gruesome way they'd ripped their victims' limbs off with wrinkly, grey hands—kinda like the hand on his shoulder right now. Wait… the what? He jumped, letting out a startled yelp.

"Whoa, easy," said the thing in front of him, trying to steady him. It took him only a moment to realize that it wasn't the living dead, but rather an old woman.

"Watch it, lady!" he protested, feeling a bit silly.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I've been trying to get your attention but you were lost in your …own…"

Now it was she who looked like she'd seen a ghost. She blinked hard a few times, before she settled down. "Sorry, I wasn't expecting to see anyone here. You know her?"

Lance stared back blankly. "Who?" He asked, quickly glancing around to confirm that Wanda had not changed her mind and decided to join him.

The old woman tipped her head at the grave. "Her, of course."

He looked back at Maggie's grave again. "Oh…um…not at all," he decided. "No."

She raised an eyebrow. "Then you've come to pay your respects to a stranger?"

"No. What? No. I'm not paying anything to anyone." He really didn't want to be wasting time with someone's grandma here, so he said, uncivilly, "Look, I don't want any company right now. Mind giving me some space?"

"Fine," she frowned, evidently irritated by his rudeness, but he didn't care, really. Instead of leaving, though, she continued with "It's just not often that I find young men at Maggie's grave. I thought maybe you knew my god-daughter."

Lance stiffened visibly. "Your god-daughter?" _Aw crap. Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP._ What he did not want was the family reunion from hell, part two. It took a great force of will to not turn tail and run. "Then you're probably the one who wants me to buzz off."

"You can stay if you like. You obviously stopped here for a reason."

His brain worked quickly to come up with a decent lie."Nope. Didn't. There was no reason, I mean. Not sure why I stopped, to be honest." Well, the last part was true. "Just meant to walk through, you know?"

She was blinking at him again, but thankfully accepted his story. "I'm Sophie, by the way."

He took her outstretched hand, blurting out the first name that popped into his head. "Fred."

"Fred. Hm."

Taking a step backward, he said "Like I was saying, you probably wanna' be alone, so I'll—"

"No." Her voice was strangely forceful, and he stopped his retreat. "If you don't mind, I _would _like the company."

"I don't—"

She interrupted him before he could stammer out his excuse. "I think I'm about the only one who comes here. And even then, I don't very often."

He recalled his first impression of the Spartan grave, but kept his mouth clamped shut. Not speaking would be the best way to get out of this conversation as fast as possible.

"It's pretty obvious, I guess." She tapped her left leg with the cane she was holding to offer him some sort of explanation. "It's my foot. I have trouble walking, especially in winter. That's why I don't come here. S'Why she doesn't get the flowers and decorations that everyone else here gets. Pathetic, right?"

Lance wasn't sure whether she was talking about his mother, or about her lack of visitors. Whichever it was, he started feeling irrationally defensive. "It's not pathetic."

"That the only family she has left can't even do that much for her? From where I'm standing, it feels pretty pathetic."

Oh, so it was neither. "Don't beat yourself up about it. It's not really a big deal. She…she probably wouldn't care about it. I mean…if I were de…that is, if it were me, I wouldn't."

"You're right about that. She wouldn't be mad about it. Would probably say she deserved it. Maybe she did."

"Yeah, maybe." Lance said quietly. Would a woman who had abandoned her kid in some orphanage be capable of remorse? He still had not been able to reconcile the woman Nick had described to him with the one who had been able to leave her son on some stranger's doorstep. "What was she like?"

"Incredibly smart, and incredibly stupid. I thought she'd be the one in the family to make something great out of herself. But instead she made some bad choices in life. Married a deadbeat; had his kid. Let her life fall apart."

"That same old story, right?"

"With lots of collateral damage inflicted on a lot of innocent people." Air smoked out of her nose as she breathed out. "How old are you anyway, Lance?"

"Eighteen," he answered, before realizing that she hadn't called him Fred.

"Right, of course, eighteen; could have done that math in my head."

He was stunned. "You know who I am?"

"I might be old, but I can still put two and two together. You're a terrible liar. And you look just like him. Like your father." She turned her entire body to him this time.

He bristled at the raw anger in her eyes. He'd pummeled people for much less, but was uncharacteristically unable to find his rage. It was easy to understand what she was thinking: he'd wrecked Maggie's life. Like father like son. Considering what a screw up he'd been for as long as he could remember, she was probably right.

Suddenly, he felt that this was not a place he was allowed to be. "I didn't mean-I should go," he stammered, taking a step backward.

"No, you should stay." Her voice was so forceful again, that he paused, mid-step. "She waited this long to see you again, after all."

Lance jammed his hands in his jacket pockets and put his feet together.

"Let me tell you something, Lance. Your mother was kind, but she was a coward." She raised her palm to him, trying to stop him from reasoning out why on his own. "As much as I would like to blame your father for most of the world's problems, they both shared culpability in what they did to each other, and to you. In the end, Maggie was too scared to face it, so she gave up; gave up looking for you, and pretty much everything. She kept saying that you were probably better off where you were."

Anger began to creep into his gut. "Yeah, what kid wouldn't be better off in an orphanage, where no one cares about you."

"I'll apologize to you for that. But I doubt it makes anything okay for you."

She was right. It didn't.

"What they—your parents—put you through; no kid should have to go through. Hate them for it. God knows you've earned the right. But I just want you to know…just this one thing. She did love you; so very much. She really did," her voice cracked a bit when repeating the words, "love you."

After a long and uncomfortable silence Sophie rubbed her eyes a bit violently before crouching on her haunches in front of the tombstone clearing away the snow. As she absently worked, she asked, "Do you have any…Is there anything you would like to know? About her?"

Lance watched her gloved hands sweep across the white powder, leaving little tracks of flakes over the grey stone. "No. I don't think I need to hear anything else." Maybe he'd regret saying that some day, but right now, he was just so _tired_.

"Okay." She stood again, facing the grave, and if she was disappointed, she didn't show it. "If you change your mind though, sometime, anytime, please come and find me."

He nodded once, then when he realized that she couldn't see his motion he said, "Yeah. Thanks. I'll see you 'round, Sophie."

She turned slightly toward him, affording him a full view of the newly cleaned tombstone. Lance took a long look at it then flicked his eyes back to Sophie. "Take care of yourself, Lance." she told him.

Nodding once, he shoved his hands in his jacket pocket and walked toward the rot-iron gateway. He briefly glanced back after stepping outside the cemetery, and then closed the gate behind him.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**


	13. Home, Sweet Home

**Chapter Soundtrack: **Broke, _The Beta Band_**  
AN: **One more round of applause for my beta, Dracarot! This is the penultimate chapter. Only an epilogue to go, which will be up in a day or two.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Home, Sweet Home**

* * *

"Hey man, bummer about your parents."

Lance had just barely opened the door when he felt a gust of wind and Pietro leaning against his shoulder.

"Yeah?" Lance frowned and knocked Pietro away from him. "What would you know about it?" He took a few more steps into the house, but Pietro zipped back in front of him, now standing by Toad, who was squatting, punching his fist into his open palm.

"Man, if I'd been there, there'da been a smack down." A fly passed close to his nose and he sucked it into his mouth with a sticky tongue, and then continued his imaginary beating.

"You're better off without 'em," Fred added as he came out of the kitchen.

Lance drew his eyebrows together. "How do you guys…?" He looked back at Wanda, who lagged in the doorway, looking exasperatedly at the other three boys. "Wanda?"

She shrugged, and if he hadn't known her better, he'd have thought she looked sheepish. "I called ahead so they wouldn't be the insensitive clods they usually are." She glared at where the three of them stood. "Obviously, it was my mistake."

"Hey!" Blob protested, "We are not clods," then he asked Pietro, "What's a clod?"

"Look in the mirror, Einstein." Pietro gritted back before folding his hands over his chest. "We were not insensitive."

"Yeah," Blob agreed, scrunching up his face. "Look, I even made you a sandwich." He shoved the plate he was holding into Lance's chest.

Lance looked down at the plate, seeing a few rose-shaped radishes ornamenting the slices of ham, vegetables, and bread. He dropped the duffel bag from his shoulder and accepted the plate. "Uh…thanks Fred."

Toad hopped behind him, and began shoving him towards the living room. It was still as dilapidated as it had been when he left, but it seemed that someone had cleared off part of the couch to make sitting room. Toad jumped up, pushing him down into said open space in the process. "Take a load off. And by the way, I ain't mad at you no more for taking off with my Wanda. So don't worry."

"Yeah Toad," Pietro said as he leaned against the fire place mantle. "I'm sure he was real worried about that." He was ignored.

"Look, I also got you these, to take your mind off stuff." Toad fanned out about four magazines, and held them close to Lance's face. "This one's about cars. This one's about guitars. This is one of those magazines with all the chicks that Pietro keeps under his bed. He said you could borrow it until Kitty gets back."

"Yeah," Pietro nodded. "It's old anyway. I'm pretty much done with it."

"And finally, this one's called Quality Parenting. I figured you could check it out for examples of what good parents are really like so you wouldn't feel so bad about your dad being a loser."

"Isn't the point to not remind him of his loser dad, genius?"

Toad also frowned at the last magazine, apparently reassessing his strategy. "Yeah… hmmm… maybe. But it still beats your support group idea."

"Again, it's not a support group!" Pietro emphasized with a wave of his hand. "I just wanted to tell him about all the times that Magneto let me and Wanda down. You know, to empathize."

"How's that not like a support group?"

"And how exactly has our father ever let _either_ of us down, Pietro?" Wanda added to Toad's question.

"I…uh…This isn't about us, Wanda, this… uh… this is about Lance. Our good friend Lance, who needs our help to get through the-"

Lance stood abruptly, not so much because he wanted to save Pietro from the wrath of his sister but because he was very irritated at the moment. The floor trembled slightly in reaction. "Oh, just fan-freakin'- tastic. Look, guys, thanks, but I don't want your food, I don't want your support groups, I don't want your hand-me-down reading materials, and I most _definitely_ don't want your pity! So just leave. Me. _Alone_!" He pushed the magazines back into Toad, brushed past Pietro and shoved the plate he was holding back into Blob's hands. "This is exactly what I needed right now," he muttered as the tremors followed him towards the stairs.

His path was blocked by Wanda. "What?" He demanded.

"I know they're idiots, but they _are_ trying." She nodded her head back to the living room. "They may not be family, but they're what you've got."

Lance tried very hard to hold on to his anger. Who cared about their stupid sandwiches, and magazines, and stories? They didn't understand anything about him. Why shouldn't he be furious at these idiots? These morons who were always causing him problems; who were tactless and thoughtless and annoying; who, when all he wanted was to destroy the foundations of a building somewhere, were trying to make him feel better.

He looked back to see Fred holding his carefully crafted meal despondently in the doorway, and despite his best efforts, lost. The rage began to dissipate as he realized that his moronic housemates weren't the reason he was angry. It was stupid to take it out on them when they were only trying to help, albeit it in an equally stupid manner. The house stopped shaking. He sighed loudly, and made his way back.

"You know Fred; I guess I am kinda hungry. You mind if I still eat that?"

Fred looked up from the bread, contemplating his answer. "I guess that'll be okay. I did make it for you. No onions. I know you hate onions." He handed the plate back.

"Thanks," Lance said, patting Blob's shoulder as he headed for the couch he'd vacated. "You guys really tried to clean this place up, huh?" He looked around the living room and noticed for the first time a dying tree in the far corner. It was almost all brown, and was most definitely a fire hazard. "You put up a tree?"

"Yeah, what about it?" Pietro snapped, apparently miffed about Lance's earlier outburst.

"Nothing; we've just never had one here before."

"Yeah, well, Toad wouldn't stop complaining about not having one. And since it was just me here to listen to his constant whining, I thought it'd be easier to get the stupid tree and shut him up."

"He's tryin' to act all tough, but he wanted it just as much as I did. You shoulda seen how excited he was when we went out to get it. Face lit up like a…like a Christmas tree."

"Oh, very clever." Pietro said dryly.

Lance studied the bare tree. "Then I guess in all the excitement, you guys must have forgotten to decorate it."

"We did decorate it!" Pietro emphasized with his hands.

"Yeah, we made a whole buncha popcorn strings and hung 'em up."

"But then Blobby here ate 'em all. We kept making more, but he kept eating 'em; right off the tree!"

Lance let out a genuine laugh at that. That sounded exactly right.

"Hey, that's not funny," Fred insisted, frowning. "It's just that the tree was a lot closer than the kitchen. And I was really hungry."

"Yeah, when are you not? I swear, at one point, I thought he was gonna eat the tree too."

"Ha ha, good one, Pietro."

"You guys are such jerks."

They continued to bicker around him for a while. Lance would have normally told them to shut up and ripped a seismic wave under the room as he left it, like earlier. But this time, he just leaned back on the ratty couch, ate his sandwich, and listened to their arguing.

It felt good to be home.

* * *

**To Be Concluded…**


	14. Epilogue: Another Day

**Chapter Soundtrack: **Another Day, _The Album Leaf  
_**AN: **Another shout out to my beta, Dracarot! And to all of you who stuck with this story to the end. It was a fun, if not long, ride, and I hope you enjoyed it!

* * *

**Epilogue: Another Day**

* * *

"There," Kitty said stepping back from the mantel. "I think that's the perfect place for it."

"When's that from?" Pietro asked, leaning over her shoulder and squinting.

"Thanksgiving, Bobby developed all the pictures he took. I though you guys would want this one."

"Hmm, He is really bad at taking pictures. Good thing cameras always love me. I guess we'll keep it."

"You're so generous," she said, rolling her eyes and moving to sit on the armrest of the chair Lance was sprawled in. "I think it's nice, right Lance?"

"Yeah, it's nice."

Pietro turned to face them, placing his hands on his hips. "Well, of course he has to agree with you if he wants to get any—"

"—body want some of my sandwich?" Blob thudded into the room with a large tray full of food. He plopped down on the sofa next to Toad, causing the house to shudder.

Todd twisted his face in disgust. "What the heck is in that?"

"Everything I could find in the kitchen. Ham, Bologna, Turkey, Mayonnaise, Chocolate Syrup and some of those soggy white things Wanda eats."

"Oh man, you took Wanda's tofu? She's so gonna kill you."

"What? It tastes good," Fred said through a mouthful of food. "Wanna try?" He held out the bitten sandwich to Kitty, but she shook her head.

"Thanks Fred, but we're gonna grab something at the mall." She shook Lance's shoulder. "We'd better leave soon, before all the good clothes are gone."

"I didn't know we were going to the mall." Pietro zipped over to them and folded his arms.

Kitty frowned at him. "That's because you weren't invited."

"Don't be silly. I don't need an invitation to go to the mall. You coming Toady?"

"Well, I ain't gonna sit around here watching Blob eat our kitchen. Count me in." He hopped after Pietro, who was already at the coat closet.

Kitty sighed and looked at Lance. He shrugged as he stood up, pulling her up off the chair with him. "Sorry. If you want we can sneak out now and ditch them here."

"Nah, it's fine. Who knows, it might be fun."

"You know it. You' hanging with Grandmaster Fun right here. Oh yeah. Uh-huh." Toad sang his made-up lyrics while hopping around Pietro, ignoring the jacket being handed to him.

Kitty made a sound halfway between "ugh" and "yuck," but Todd didn't notice. His attention had snapped almost instantaneously to Wanda when she started coming down the stairs. Halting his impromptu dance, he met her on the last step. "Wanda, Sweets, are you coming with us?"

She looked at him for a second, then continued walking, opening the front door. "I'm going to see Agatha Harkness," she said just as the door slammed shut behind her.

Toad leapt after her. "Sorry guys…On second thought, l'm'a go with Wanda instead. Cuddlebumps, wait!"

Pietro threw Toad's forgotten green coat back into the closet in one second, and had his own on in the next. "So much for the Grandmaster; how about you Blobby?" he called back to the living room.

"You guys go ahead," he told them as he shoved a hand full of chips into his face. "I've got a lot of food to finish here. Oh crap, I forgot my soda!" With a little effort, he got off the couch and headed back for the kitchen.

"That's perfect, right Kitty Cat? Now you won't be smushed in the back seat." Before she could argue, Pietro was patting his pants, saying, "Shoot, wallet must be in my room. Be-back-in-a-flash."

The breeze from his exit gusted into the living room, displacing Kitty's hair. She sighed in annoyance as she readjusted it. "Actually, I think I left my jacket upstairs too."

"Want me to get it?" Lance asked.

"Nope, I'll do it."

"'Kay." He let go of her hand as she made for the stairs.

Instead of heading outside to his Jeep, Lance walked to the mantel and picked up the new picture frame, examining it more closely. Fred had his eyes closed and there was a big piece of ham hanging from his mouth. Wanda had her head turned to avoid Todd, who had stretched himself across a startled Lance in an attempt to hug her. No one was looking directly at the camera except Pietro. It wasn't the best picture in the world, except that it was.

"You coming, Lance?" Kitty asked from the door. She already had her jacket on and was wrapping a fuzzy scarf around her neck.

"Yeah, I'll be right there."

She smiled at him, and then went outside. Through the living room window, he saw her try to climb into the passenger seat of his Jeep before Pietro blurred by her and claimed it instead. It looked like there was a small argument brewing between them that he'd have to go settle. He looked at the picture in his hands, and then put it back on the mantel. Maybe he'd already found what he hadn't been searching for. It had just taken him a while to realize it.

He grabbed his jacket from the arm chair and headed out the door.

* * *

**The End.**


End file.
